Don’t Forget the Roses
de la Grange
The doctor found me and tapped me on the shoulder.
She said I’d better hurry, that you were fading fast.
I had gone for coffee. You had drifted off to sleep.
I guess I really didn’t believe, our forever wouldn’t last.
I took a breath outside your door, and then pushed it open.
It was stupid. A breath couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.
Your dad had said your mom had needed to see him strong.
How strong can a rock be, a tear away from breaking?
You’re lying there, frail as a doll made out of china.
I saw your eyelids flutter as I walked over to the bed.
You asked who’s there. I said, it’s just me sweet baby.
Then took your hand, wishing I were dying instead.
I lied, when you asked if it has suddenly got colder.
When you said, everything around you was growing dim.
I shook my head, and said it’s just getting a little cloudy.
You know how cold and wet this spring weather has been.
You said rain is good for your garden, then mouthed come closer.
I could barely feel your breath, as it brushed against my ear.
You whispered, Honey don’t forget to weed my roses.
Remember, their all supposed to be in bloom this year.
I go to say, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of your babies.
But the words get drowned inside my broken mind.
You’re gone, and God how I wish I was going with you.
Half a heart, half a love, should never have to stay behind.
I never really knew how much I truly loved you.
Now I know how cold it can get, when the fire’s finally gone.
How hard it is to take a breath, when the air is rare and thin.
I thought I knew how much I truly loved you. I was wrong.