THIS OLD PLACE

I stop by the old place, every now and then

To see how the oak tree has been bent by the wind

And I always find a reason in the summertime

To see the crepe myrtles all blooming in a line

I used to call this place my home, but that was long ago

Ain’t no one left ‘round these parts I even know

But my handprint’s still in concrete on the patio

And the cherry tree took root that I thought would never grow

My life has changed in many ways since I left this place

The miles and memories they are mapped on my face

And standing here at this old place, I find a state of grace

All of who I am can be traced back to this old place

I still know all the shortcuts and back alleyways

This town ain’t changed that much since the good ol’ days

Our initials are still on that bench down in Forest Park

And little kids still chase fireflies just as it gets dark