My Old Home

This place has changed so much!
There’s more of it now, spreading
beyond the old boundaries; but new
isn’t necessarily better. In fact
those are the very spots
that look seedy, run-down.
When development is not
well thought out, new suburbs
degenerate into slums.

I travel closer in, to the centre,
and there I find familiarities.
I knock on a door. I can still recognise
the woman who answers. She
is not best pleased to see me.
I think she hoped I’d look
more prosperous, better dressed,
as befits an older sister. I know
she’d have liked me to be famous.

When I go exploring, I find
the intellectual life of the place
is still thriving. Busier than ever, but
some things have gone out of fashion.
New interests replace them. It’s good
that technology has been embraced
so readily. The music played
is better now, but the books being read
I have to say, are lighter.

Manners have certainly deteriorated
but, paradoxically, I observe
more real compassion.
It’s natural there should be
physical alterations; that’s just time.
But what of tastes and attitudes? They 
perhaps result from choices, habits,
even mistakes. Overall, though,
I’m happy enough with how I’ve turned out.


30 Poems in 30 Days, 2010: 10
Prompt: a poem about a place that has changed considerably over time.