I think when something dreadful happens,
You go a little mad.
Your brain shuts off and stops to function-
Better mad than sad.
You see things and you genuinely
Believe them to be true.
Like the Robin in the garden,
Who I felt was really you.
Your little soul had passed away,
Somewhere it had to go.
The Robin's ruby red breast,
So bright against the snow.
Maybe it was the colour red,
So vibrant next to white.
The reminder of the blood
And the previous sleepless night.
Maybe it was the grief,
And the sadness and despair.
My mind looking for anything
Which my heart it might repair.
But maybe just the madness,
And a fight for something real.
A place for your lost soul to live,
Some hope for me to feel.
I watched the Robin fly away
As tears welled in my eyes.
And there I decided your soul went,
To soar up in the skies.
So when I see a Robin now,
I sit and stare a while
I think of you flying high above
And that thought makes me smile.