But it’s not really the same anymore.
It has changed in many little ways
and in other ways not so little at all.
My mind sometimes wanders
to a time when I would sometimes wander
the small lanes of what was then this small town.
An innocent time in an innocent place.
We’re told that you can’t go home again
but it seems that you can’t stay home either
because the things that you cling to will change
into something other than the things that you remember.
I suppose I have to admit to myself
that what’s holding me here
is the way it used to be
and not the way it is today.