How strange to knock upon the door
Of a place I’d known long years before
To be welcomed in by friends estranged
See familiar furniture rearranged
To wander the maze of old memory halls
To listen to echoes of distant recalls
To search for the signs where the past left its print
Of my passage through time, some small clue or a hint
But the harder I looked, the more seemed the same
‘Til it finally became clear, it was I who had changed
— Wayne Visser