The same stones on the pavement
A bit more worn, some missing too…
But they echo memories
Of steps once taken together.
The large trees just the same
Maybe some branches, some leaves younger
The older leaves of three decades ago
Would surely recognize one
But they are long gone… withered,
Withered in waiting
The building now closing for the day
Folks exiting in excitement
The walls and rooms grave as a village elder
Questioning the prodigal son's return after years.
The old majestic branches spot one’s head
The stones on the pavement sense one’s steps
Do they feel the emptiness that fills one?
A familiar breeze fans the face
A leaf settles on the shoulder, dried
An additional stalk attached
But bare otherwise…
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