Things Change

'Things change', I don't have any other words,
to say to you as I walk out the door.
My song is sung, I cannot strike a chord,
that you and I can dance to anymore.

A friendship never ends or peters out,
as long as friend and friend are true and brave;
If we were such, I only now have doubt;
Do I lack heart, since this I cannot save?

I know that we were so much more than friends;
A fire burning with each graze and glance;
Perhaps that is just why what we had ends:
The endlessness burned up in our romance.


Do ashes make for arid grounds of heart?
Or fertile grounds where growth again can start?