Walking through the streets of my hometown, thinking about time
Everything is new: the buildings, faces, sounds and smells
But also old: memories on every corner, shadows I can see and touch
(Like:? The flashing lights as we cruised Main Street
Bottles of beer on an empty lamp lit court
Her hand in mine on a warm summer's eve
Light wind on our faces, moon through the pine)

But as I walk, the streets, like my memories, feel less steady
Almost crumbling, slipping away, like rocks on a mountain incline
And I land back in the now, in the crowd, amidst today's faces
(They:? All grasping, almost straining, looking
For permanence, for roots in a place, their place,
Something distinct, unchanging, still
An insistence that this place is, and always will be, home)

But I know – as they surely do – that there is only change,
That home is not a place, but where the heart is
And the heart is also and always changing — one beat at a time

– by MJB