Pinpoint

I looked at my dog-eared road atlas today.

Battered. Only turned to in lost, driving  desperation.

I happened upon a page, with a red dotted line.

Felt transported. My fingertips running over names long forgotten.

Suddenly recalled in sharp focus.

 

Every step measured out and walked with you.

So long ago.

You, a globe trotter before you walked.

Me, a teenaged shuffler-guided by others.

I felt our path was bathed in starlight.

 

Imbued with adventure

Our feet journeyed together.

Then parted company. We followed differing scales.

I wonder where you are now.

Whether your eyes will ever journeyold-map-great-britain to read this?

 

© Tom Tide 2016

 

 

 

 

 

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