Little red cardinal, as red as a rose,
Wing span oh marginal, chest feather exposed.
Fly to the bees for honey is made,
From flower to pollen, growing in shade.
Fly to the moon, glowing at dawn,
Rain drops are falling, weeping a song.
Little red robin, pure gentle hue,
Soaring in morning, skies oh so blue.
Feather to tickle, apon my rose cheak,
Little red robbin, hearing your tweet.
Song of the summer, warm and aloft,
Until fall is a coming, soaring yet soft.
Whisper to me, all the day long,
Still in your beauty, true love is gone.
© 6 hours ago
0