Walking through a forest,
I saw something shine.
A man made of tin,
Hidden in leaves and vines.
I brushed off the soil,
And tore through the leaves.
Sat him up against a trunk,
And his body of metal gleamed.
Cogs whirred and lights flashed,
As he stood and shook.
He began to walk rigidly,
At me he looked.
We walked through firs,
Past rivers and trails.
He took my hand yet,
He felt so frail.
His body started to creak,
As rain drizzled down.
Rust began to form,
And his life-force began to drown.
He stopped near the water
And fell to the floor.
His tin loud in the clearing,
I’d heard that sound before.
His lights began to flicker,
His cogs slowed to a tick.
I sat and watched him,
Tears sprang as I blinked.
The clearing went quiet,
The water made no din.
My robot friend had ceased,
Our friendship was never to begin.
I walked out of the forest,
Knowing he’d stay.
Man of tin has no heart,
Just cogs, lights, and metal of grey.