A pair 
of little ruby wings
A pair 
of stout little legs
Atop
a stone wall
this little robin sits:
surveyer of his keep-
kept so guarded.

The leaves 
and the seasons
are permitted to pass through
by order of
The Wind:
who whispers-
never more than a nod
or a wink-
so as to keep
the robin thinking
of it as
his secret garden.

I once gave you a book.
I had found it in a yard sale,
Gently used binding,
In good shape for a paperback,
And I remember how
My cheeks had burned,
thinking how perfect it was
for me
to give
to you.

I remember how 
my heart had raced
as you tore back the wrapping paper
from its cover.
And for the rest of the evening
I'd smiled
like we shared a secret.

Just the other day I
was coming over to see your new
plasma screen tv
And as we sat,
there in the game room,
something caught my eye.
And there it was
It was 
Wedged against
the leg of a card table 
used as leverage 
to fix a wobbly annoyance
And on the spine,
Dust gathering.

Oh symbolism,
You're no friend of mine.