Beneath the twilight’s gentle veil,
The robins sing their final tale.
A song of life, of love and loss,
As shadows of death silently cross.

In gardens where the flowers bloom,
They sense the whispering of doom.
Wings embrace the evening air,
As they bid farewell to despair.

Through the mist, their voices blend,
A harmonious symphony to the end.
With every note, a tear is shed,
Mourning the souls that fate has led.

The robins’ song, so bittersweet,
Echoes through the empty street.
As night descends, their hearts ignite,
A poignant dance with death’s cold light.