ash

there is a street in the city,
where you take your lover
by the hand when you feel alone,
where a girl ruins her dress
by the pond, and a boy feels warm,
wearing nothing but her arms
there is a lover, that falls short of rain
before the grass darkens, there is a sky
that stands still for you to see
the world goes on, so the sky
goes on to moon and stars,
not for you, not for me, or anyone,
do the fences mend, the children sing,
that we hold on to them as if they're gone,
and there is nothing to gain,
not wounds, not catharsis, not wisdom,
the day has passed, it gathers dust,
like everything, and everyone turns
to ash without heat, that nothing,
even love, remains