You can't go back to where you've been,
It's not the same there any more;
Though trees and walks and buildings all,
May look just like you've seen before.
But stop and think of what it was
That gave this place the touch it has,
And why for pleasure or for pain
Within our selves it will remain.
Then a "someone" you will recall:
A friend; a love; a dear, close kin--
That human soul of past and when
The scene ourselves did first take in.
That human soul entwined with ours,
Like a pair of unfolding flowers
Touching at that one time and place:
Make that old sweet haunter: memory's face.
So just as the parts of a broken vase
Can be reassembled to their previous shape,
So the patchwork pieces of the past--
The return to a familiar landscape--
Will at first appearance have every attribute;
But, when sounded, ring a bitter mute:
For though all the parts be fitted the same,
The spirit's gone that answered to its name.
Comments
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I love this poem, it has almost an eerie ring to it and a tinge of memory, of going back to a place that's existant and yet isn't there. Great poem
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ah yes, one can not go back in time other than in mind, i did it a few years back, walking round my childhood haunts, but it was not the same as living the times.
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Meaningful wisdom here. Love the metaphoric surrealism:
"So just as the parts of a broken vase
Can be reassembled to their previous shape,
So the patchwork pieces of the past--
The return to a familiar landscape--
For though all the parts be fitted the same,
The spirit's gone that answered to its name."
Great job!!! Peace, Cyn 
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You are so right.You can never relive moments of the past.We remember them differently to how they really were anyway,People who talk about the "good old day's".Were they really so good? I don't think so.Good piece, Ros
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