Poems by Robert
Age 13

In the bleak winter landscape
like a speak in the snow
Over bear fields and bare forest
flies the old lonely crow

When the night comes early
and the cold winds blow
there is little to comfort
the old lonely crow

When he was a youngster
he flew with the flock
now hes old and gray feathered
and can't fly alot

Now hes old and bent backed
and terribly thin
he looks over the field
that he'll soon rest in

His mind casts back
over many a year
when he flew with the flock
and his family were near

So he sits for a while
at the set of the sun
and knows in his heart
that his race has been run