I thought this park would stay the same
since I first set foot in its early green,
when it was new.  I didn’t know its name.  

Now the baseball diamond’s seen its last game.
They sodded the basepaths and took out the screen.
A field without a backstop just isn't the same.

The stone fountain sits dry in its frame
of red cement.  Once water gurgled clean,
and tasted new like a secret name.

This sloping dirt path was how I came
Home from school.  It was paved by a machine
When I thought this park would stay the same.

The box elder with the split trunk’s now maimed.
Half of it’s gone. I used to hide between
Its arms. It gave refuge I could not name.

Yet the vision of a place time can’t claim--
Spared in a quiet corner, unseen--
Persists.  So I dream this park stayed the same,
Though now it no longer remembers my name.