we lose so much

What of love, a child might ask

In a city rebuilt by the wind

Laying new foundations becomes a repetitive task

The hearts of the citizens on the mend

What of pity, a man may say

A glare in the corner of his eye

Every hour he spends each passing day

Worried what may come out as a lie

What of life, a person contemplates

From the floor of the corner cafe

Scrolling through their phone for perspective dates

I will see you later, they do not say

What of death, the roses frost over

Funerals take on a a humble tone

This is not how we dreamed we would prosper

Every person rushing to not die alone.