When I was quite small
My father sang to me
About the red,
Red robin
Bobbin’ along

Teaching me
That no matter how long or dark or cold
Winter ends

Now that I am old
And he is gone
I wait each year for the first robin

Who I greet with great joy

A sure sign of spring
And hope
And my father’s love

The following two tabs change content below.


Latest posts by psaviano (see all)

Skip to toolbar