The bike rushed by me, a man with his son on it,
A sudden flood of memory welling in me then,
I saw his eyes he'd shut, or maybe open just a bit,
Just as I used to with dad, as a kid back then.
I was on my way back home, after many a day,
Excitement to the brimful, not knowing what to expect,
Recalling mom's loving touch, every word dad would say,
Coming back to finish the dots that I had yet to connect.
The piles of garbage had risen since the last time around,
The people on the roads just weren't as serene.
For a person back in town after ages in foreign ground,
I was an outside spectator to an alien scene.
The roads had widened, but still too many cars,
The quaint old shops replaced by stores and glaring neon,
The cold civilization I'd vowed to leave from now on afar,
Had followed me here and would not be gone.
I coughed in the smoke, the grime settled on my shoes,
And just as I started to panic and despair,
Like pages out of my history at once let loose,
I found preserved and untouched, my neighborhood there.
There was the old restaurant we always used to eat at,
The neighbor's door in front of which I played many a game,
It was then I felt with entirety of conviction that,
Some things should always remain the same.
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