Poem: A Different City

A Different City

Much disappeared
even when I was young,
much would come
and then be gone,
and my father spoke,
many times he spoke
of the places before,
of what he recalled
that had long vanished,
and so I knew
it was never a place
for permanence,
was never the same,
never kept things
or let them remain.
I knew that,
but even so
I did not understand,
not enough
to avoid expectations.

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