Every time she’s awoken, she kisses the sky
And dances to the pattern of the wind.
Somehow that robin reminded me I could fly,
Through her song to which I listened.
That song of hers I dream about, veiled in hope,
Is one the Romantics would die to hear.
Unattainable muse, her flight is how I would cope
Robyn, an angel, remember you can fly, my dear.