THEY LIVE IN MY FIREPLACE
The merry Robins live in a nest chirping their best
Every morning I hear the chipping of the pests
Churp chirping and chirp the hungry infants go
Like clockwork, they awaken me out of my bed
Before the eight-clock bell, the chippings begin
I would like to shut them up but for an hour or so
Or completely relocate them where people don’t go
So they all can have you know a brighter tomorrow
They play upon my mind sometimes night and day
I can't escape them where would they come and go
They live in my chimney you see the fools don’t know
Their nest is perch and hidden inside my fireplace
If I am not careful they may become fry robins waste
The silly twitters have no fear that their end is near
Year after year the foolish Robins return up there
Do you have any thoughts on this matter do declare
For Robins, it doesn’t matter whether it is loud or clear
They say to me we not moving anywhere we don’t fear
Funny how I have admired their constitutional freedom
The Robins without a doubt dare me to put them out
I pleaded with them but they replied you go fly a kite
Parting is such sorrow I will miss them and their fight
Knowing them surely next year is but a pleasant delight
Into the Mist poems book 9
Kenvil Atkins Lewis / Timeless poetry and raw energy.
