Tell Me

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 bird
I will be witnessing the quiet presence of death
for it sure feels like that
when you’re gone

so spare me my quiet death my dear
and tell me, tell me, oh please tell me
how do i live without you?


How Do I Live Without You – Trisha Yearwood
For a wonderful baker, teacher and writer