This one, as is most of my childhood poetry, is in my book Lost in the Lost and Found.

Red, red robin the seasons are changing.
The leaves are through turning.
Soon the snow will be falling.
The air is now cooler, crisper, colder.
Take heed to my warning
that winter is coming.
Fly away!
Red robin, red robin your brothers are calling.
The winter wind’s blowing.
With fever your burning.
The nights are cold
and colder there getting.
Red Robin, it’s freezing.
Fly away!
Red, red robin why aren’t you leaving?
There is frost on your shoulder
and you do not fly away?
Now you are dying.
There is no returning.
Farewell red robin.
Your brothers are mourning.
Snow crystals to cover your grave.


Leave a comment