Its Time is Thriving

The sad thing about moving
Is unless the people who rent or buy your home
Are extremely friendly and let you visit,
You never see the inside of your old home again.

But to me
The one thing worse
Than not seeing the inside of your house again
Is the old house eventually being demolished
Which is the case of a house where I lived
With my mother and her friends
When I was five years old.

I came to live there
When my father had to go away for a while.
The house was very big
With my mother, me, her friends,
And her friends' children on the main floor.

Three other friends lived on the top floor.

I don't have a lot of memories of my time there
Except it's part of my childhood.
It's one of those many houses I lived in
As a little boy blossoming.

In less than a year
My mother and I moved out.
Everybody else followed not long after that.

About five or so years after we all left
The house was bought and torn down.
To this day
I can't imagine why
But what can you do?

Once a place is demolished
There's no turning back.

Though I'll never see that big house again
It still lives inside me.
I can always remember
The fond times we had,

The fights, the laughter, the meals,
The situations.
Everything we did together
As one big family
Under one large roof.

Today another house occupies its very spot.
People are living there and doing well.
It's kind of sad for me
To see such a change
But my heart delights
Knowing its time is thriving.