It feels familiar now. The grooves of the metro platform, the greeting each day "Good morning, Miss Emily," the strumming guitars before bed. I have less to prove now. To myself, to this city. Four seasons passed and more. A life lived here. I, too, walk by my old buildings and old memories. From years ago and days past. What we once were. And what we still are.
Slam dunk and strike out. This balance never seems to change. What I chase and what I catch. How much I wish to be, just caught.
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