Walk down the same street years later.

Its name hasn’t changed and neither has yours

But that doesn’t make you the person you were.

You’ve outgrown the brick house 

That once was known as ‘home.’

Weeds do their best to rip apart the sidewalk’s scars

And they remind you of how hard you fought

For your best to be enough.

Hear a door slam behind your back.

Sounds of the neighbors’ petty arguments

Are a welcome comfort to your changing life

The one you let spite drive

Ever since you realized that

Peace can be so easily destroyed by others

Who are worse than weeds, and remain tethered

Like the old dog on the left -

It’s surprising how long he’s lived.