A little bit of Heaven came to visit me today.
It hopped around the garden,
In its fascinating way.
It ate the food I placed for it
And sang a cheerful song,
This feisty little robin,
How I wished that it would stay,
But it left a simple message,
As it gaily flew away.
It’s the little things in life that count.
They bring us the most joy,
And happiness comes from within,
It's something you cannot buy.
Wisha when I wrote this poem I was thinking about the little robin I used to have myself. Well he was wild you know but he used to come over to me when I was putting out the food and things - not always mind you, but sometimes he used come to me. And when I'd talk to him he'd turn his head you know, a lovely little thing he was and fine and fat too. Well there was one time I was talking to him and he showing off to me with a worm when around the corner came my old boss Mr Casey. Didn't the robin hop away under a bush. So there I was talking and he looking and there's no one there! Sure, I was very embarressed first, him thinking I was talking to a bush. I was there thinking 'will ya come out or he'll think I've gone banannas'. Well the robin flew back out anyway and Mr Casey couldn't get over how tame he was, hopping over to me. They can be very friendly you know, them and the wren.
wisha—def : an irish idiom used as an intensive or to express surprise.