His Little Blue Egg
He cradled it in his little hand
A perfect egg of robin's blue
Treasure found beneath a tree
Already covered in morning dew
Convinced that he could mother it
Unable to accept nature's way
He tended his little blue egg
Until it turned a mottled gray
Today I found a robin's nest
High up in the backyard tree
Memories came flooding back
Of an egg held up for me to see......
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2012
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