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I’ve had a few old addresses, Different doors and different fences. Boxes taped and labels crossed, Keys returned, then sometimes lost. Some were tiny, some were loud, Some felt borrowed, some felt proud. I wonder who lives there now, Do they repaint the walls somehow? Old addresses in my mind, Little chapters left behind. I don’t miss them every day, But sometimes they just drift my way. Windows glowing after dark, Different names upon the mark. Life moves fast and doesn’t ask — We just pack and go. One had sunlight in the hall, One had cracks along the wall. One was close to everything, One felt like a quiet in-between. I drove past once, didn’t stop, New trees growing by the block. Funny how a place can hold Versions of you long ago. Old addresses in my head, Places where I used to rest. Not better, not worse than now, Just different somehow. Some stay rooted all their lives, Some keep chasing changing skies. Neither way is wrong or right — Just the way it goes. If walls could talk, what would they say? About who I was that day? Would they know me if I knocked? Or say, “Sorry… you’ve been swapped.” Old addresses, passing through, Every one of them was true. I was someone in each room, Under every rented moon. Life’s uncertain, sure enough — Some stay still, some pack up. Either way we all belong Where we are — for now.