there is a part of my city
that no one sings songs about
that no one makes films about
that no one writes poems about
this is home for me
this is home
my mother's deepest fears
are the memories I hold dear
at first it is bright
colorful and piquant
breathe in its vivacity
swallow its verve
but let it age
and you will find
the ruby give way
for an amber hue
those distinct notes
blur altogether
until you cannot taste the fruit
but time itself