The Map

The map I have followed
since our first meeting
in the delivery room
is older now

Creases and lines
point the way down trails
where I may never go

Each course correction
has softened
the paper aged
folded and folding again
leaving its impression
like the brown of my hair
a love of western novels

I have wrapped myself
in the sweet dry smell
of its security

It is familiar now
the map and its layers
overlaid
like a wax paper drawing
each sheet
slowly revealing
the complete image

Advertisements
Previous Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: