Sensing An Old Flame Poem by RIC BASTASA

everything's changed.
the park is gone.
the tree is cut.
the creek dried.

a row of houses here.
the residents talk different languages.
i can't find the big stone anymore.
the walls have gone higher
and i can no longer see the bend
of the road. People move to places.

and we come back to reminisce.
some strings of light. some shapes of shadows.
we try to figure out.
what was there once.

i see you. you see me.
we know what to say.
we know what to do.
what we did once.

amidst all these changes.
we decided there will be no changes.

hello and then goodbye.
these words had always been
a nice pair.