Wednesday, June 10, 2020

The Map

Folded, worn, creased, torn,
Colors faded at the creases,
Lines disappearing, no borders
In spaces of land masses,
A well-loved map is laid out.
Faded circles around cities
Dreamed to visit one day,
Highways traced in pencil
Between places far apart,
Finding the quickest route,
Memories fill the spaces
Across the map,
Stories told and untold
Between the lines, dots, and borders.
Fingers run over the miles
Traveled back and forth
Across the world, many a trip
Immortalized on the map.
Within the creases
The map holds onto
All my memories of travel,
All the miles trekked,
The snapshots and stories
I will forever hold onto. 

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