The words of the poets of rhythm and rhyme are all around. 
The faded lessons written with chalk on the black slate 
at the abandoned Catholic school vaguely reveal 
the story of teachings past.
 
Prayers of “Hail Mary Full of Grace” 
and “I Pledge Allegiance to the Flag” 
recited in unison by high pitched voices of children 
can still ring clear. 

The Pennsylvania and Lake Erie train 
was absent on my visit 
but I saw the rails circling the hollow. 
Sounds of the wheels of steel seem so surreal. 
The steel furnaces no longer billow smoke,
a sign of yesterday’s strong hands’ work. 
 
The small church is empty now;
no parishioners’ heads do bow. 
The wooden pews are vacant; 
no echoes in the church I hear.
 
The stations of the cross still hang there all in a row, 
showing Jesus with his cross in tow. 
The confessional doors are open 
without sinners kneeling there,
no priest to lend a listening ear.
 
The repetitive sounds and patterns of life all around. 
People moving about.
Living all seems the same 
as when I left but change fills the air. 
 
Vague resemblance of youthful faces are seen, 
stolen by age that time wiped away. 
The radiance of youth, 
only subtle remnants of yesterday I see. 
I should look in the mirror.  
Is there someone to blame 
for this mundane moment in time, 
or is it me who transcended time?

I stood at the doorstep of my past 
but none of yesterday did I hold fast. 
I opened my fist to let it all fly;
now many decades have gone by.
 
What once was is no longer; 
only vague memories now linger.
I wonder if my thoughts are true? 
There’s nothing new for me to view.
I yearn to find the answer to the questions 
of my life. Was it all real?

I see flashes of familiar beings with noises 
of the city sounds all around.
Structures show age with stories untold
locked in their brick and mortar.
Those structures speak a language 
inaudible to others’ ears, 
a whisper only I can hear.

The cobblestone streets are remnants 
of yesterday’s pathways. I can still hear 
the rubber tires of those old cars 
bouncing over those stones. 

I knocked on the door of a childhood friend. 
No answer. 
I wondered if his presence is still there 
or has he left on wings of air?

I held the past in the palm of my hand 
and felt the warmth of yesterday.
What more can I ask?