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Robin ©

Stella
Fife, Scotland
2006

Drawn to him for his cheerfulness
He appears like the special guest
At a party
Or a visiting dignitary

Russet red his song a trill
A silver flute amongst the brass
I am told he is a ruffian
Who would fight with his shadow

Like the favoured child
This little bird
Can do no wrong
I stop working to feed him

Such is the robin
Whose chicks wear disguise
Lest he set up a quarrel
Yes my love is blind

He seeks me out
When others shyly fly
We need those who are bold
To remind us of freedom



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