The Robin

The Robin would come and go all the time, 
It would land on the stone wall and stare at me for minutes, seemingly not moving a muscle,
My grandmother had once told me that little birds were the spirits of those who had passed,
I wondered about who the bird had once been, her life before death.

She would come at all times of the year, regardless of the season,
Singing her hypnotic song that made all the other birds fall silent in envy,
Greeting me whenever I was anxious and filling me with happiness that eliminated my fears.

Every day I would awake to hear her song,
Until one day there was nothing but silence,
She had disappeared, taking her beautiful song with her,
Perhaps she has moved on to the other side at last and can now rest in peace,
After completing whatever it is she needed to accomplish before being at peace.