The title is the hardest part

I still come here sometimes, where the lane turns

a little on itself and then narrows;

the teashop still stands, a gas stove now burns

charcoal’s banished, also the radio’s

replaced by screens; various sizes and types –

television, smartphone, palmtop gizmos.

Only humans retrace their steps in life.

I can’t honestly say that I retrace.

True, I come to stand beneath your window

in some vague effort to find my exact place,

to find a peg again from long ago;

you’ve moved and I have too, nothing stops

and it’s both pleasant and fitting that it’s so.

But some evenings I still walk to the teashop.