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Abstract

sh&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Vincent van Zalinge</a></figcaption></figure><p id="7bee">The sun is shining, I’m sitting on a chair</p><p id="254b">To the robin, it must’ve looked like a lair</p><p id="dc55">Never did he come so close</p><p id="beb8">I started to think I was

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on a dose</p><p id="60c1">Would the robin really come to me</p><p id="18ec">To show me how I ought to be?</p><p id="f690">One slight hint of a storm</p><p id="7ea9">The robin flew, and picked up a worm</p><p id="175b">He didn’t come to save me</p><p id="2307">How did I not foresee?</p></article></body>

The Robin Doesn’t Save Anybody

A poem about a robin

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge

The sun is shining, I’m sitting on a chair

To the robin, it must’ve looked like a lair

Never did he come so close

I started to think I was on a dose

Would the robin really come to me

To show me how I ought to be?

One slight hint of a storm

The robin flew, and picked up a worm

He didn’t come to save me

How did I not foresee?

Poetry
Poem
Birds
Nature
Self
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