Fire Red Robin Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

Where this so ball of fiery fire,
Skims as a dancing doe,
Down and around,
With a small beak as thin as wire,
And where this so ball of firey beauty,
Is always forever and merely touching,
The grounds of where we all want to meet,
Because no one see's a robin,
As one is so in love.
And where to the robin is the heart,
When a girl's eyes fill up with water,
And a man's face is red with anger,
Anger and embarrassment,
That he knows it's foribben to love-
A red ball looking of fire,
And amongst the burgundy crisp leaves of the garden,
Where the robin follows us as we play,
And where the sun is twin to the robin,
And the robin to the sun,
Is idetnical to the fluctuations,
Of our in love hearts.
And when this so called ball of fire,
Smiles at you, hopping so frustratingly,
To stop to stare the moment,
In which a capture of memory is needed,
To get this so ball of fire,
Which is so identical to the sun and all the leaves around.
When you run in the strip of sunset,
In race of seeing the robin,
For one more time in the garden.
And when this so ball of beautiful fire,
Smells like burnt and looks like wind,
When it hops and flies and the air bounces,
When you see the so hot sun burning the robin.