In the morning’s gentle hue, the robins sing,Melodies weaving through the air, a tender thing.Yet beneath their vibrant songs, a shadow lies,A dance with death that echoes in the skies.In gardens lush where life does bloom,The robins perch, dispelling gloom.Yet the cycle turns, as all must fade,In twilight’s grasp, their songs do wade.Death, a whisper in the wind’s soft breath,Brushes wings with whispers of the coming death.Yet fear not, for robins know the tale,Of life renewed beyond the veil.So let us listen to their sweet refrain,A reminder that life and death entwine in gain.For in each note, a promise is laid bare,That death, like robins, sings beyond despair.