The Robin

Autumn leaves fall to the ground,
Stormy wind, the only sound,
Branches sway wildly in the breeze,
Flowers preparing for Winter’s freeze,
A robin swoops down over my head,
Enticing me with its shimmering red,
I follow it for reasons unknown,
I pray my faith in it is shown…

I’m walking along a wet pavement,
Turning over numbing sentiments,
Watching children fight the weather,
Watching the fall of pieces severed,
My head’s in the clouds, yet still bowed,
Surrounded by a dark shroud,
I’m carried by blind faith, not by thought,
Yet, I’m also carried by every thing so fraught…

I leave cityscape and come to a forest,
Hoping to rediscover what it means to be honest,
I’m drawn to a dried up riverbed,
While thinking of loved ones living and dead,
I see my reflection in its only patch of water,
But it dies; no other ties were shorter,
I follow the robin up a rising hill,
My feet are moving at their own will…

They stop beside a raging waterfall,
The icy depths begin their call,
Looking back, I see treetops in line,
Looking forward, I see a simple sign,
Looking up, I see the robin fly away,
Looking down, I see the end to my day,
I close my eyes and gravity takes hold,
All is dark now and permanently cold…