The Ship of Theseus

I am at a place that's close to my heart

The street that I grew up on as a child

The old dust of feelings forgotten

Is raked up as memories run wild

Here is where my house it stood

I played with friends in that park

A block away was the ice cream parlor

To where we'd sneak out after dark

This corner on rainy mornings

My mother and I awaited the bus

And here was where my friends and I

Would hide to peek at my first crush

But my home or park, parlor or corner

Not one of those remains anymore

So I wonder why I call it my street

Like the Ship of Theseus in the Greek lore

Perhaps, I can't say I've lived here either 

For our cells, they renew every seven years

So if I'm not that person, this isn't my street

Why do I stand here welled up with tears?