Meet Me By the Old Oak Tree

The little red robin with the tiny white feather perches
herself on the highest branch of the tree. It’s a large oak tree that she sits
on. It has branches of every shade of brown; even that reddish brown colour she
loved. It’s the tallest, grandest tree in the area; that’s why she loved it.
The little red robin with the tiny white feather had that in common with her.
The emerald green leaves cover most of the branches but the one she used to
swing on has no leaves. It has a single, tattered piece of rope hanging off of
it. At the end of the rope is a small black tire that’s tied on. I walk over to
the tire and run my smooth hand across the rough surface. Then I look up. I can
see the morning sun strongly beating through the curtain of green leaves
protecting me. I notice the robin. She stares at me. Small black eyes looking
at me curiously.

“Is that you, Scarlett?” I ask the little red robin. The
robin just looks at me for a moment longer before gracefully flying off singing
a beautiful song. I stare at the where the red robin had been thinking about nothing
in particular; besides Scarlett of course.