Tell Me

michnavs

12th in the series of “tell me your song, i’ll write you a poem”

Tell Me

the roses are dead
their brown petals are curling and stiff
with stems and leaves drooped
and they look so lonely
and sad in the middle
of the garden
with grass in yellow brown
as rubble blows down
like autum leaves free falling,
helplessly to nowhere
and I, can’t help but wonder
‘cos it sure feels like that
when you’re gone

the little bird is dying
lying upside down on the ground,
wings flapping, struggling to get up
she is beautiful
she is immaculate
her eyes close
her beak open
in a final silent call,
then shut
the quiet presence of death
my heart aches
and I, can’t help but wonder
‘cos it sure feels like that
when you’re gone

I will be like the dying roses
I will be like the dying little…

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