Today, 02:51 AM
Where the Heart Is
The world isn't really much
bigger than this map, he said.
It is precisely hand drawn
on yellowing paper; inscribed
with detailed descriptions.
He points to places he's been;
all of them within walking distance
of the only home he's known.
His entire life, intentionally
laid out; some places highlighted,
others struck through.
As you walk beside him
on the trail by the creek
he stops, at a large old oak-
initials fading, yet clear.
He says, I always knew that girl
and I would be married.
Further up, you cross on flat stones
where the creek is shallow, winding
with the path through silver sycamores
you come to a small white church
marked with a large red heart. Behind it
a headstone circled in black. He carefully
folds the map; hands it to me, gently.
It's yours now, son-
you'll know where to find me.
The world isn't really much
bigger than this map, he said.
It is precisely hand drawn
on yellowing paper; inscribed
with detailed descriptions.
He points to places he's been;
all of them within walking distance
of the only home he's known.
His entire life, intentionally
laid out; some places highlighted,
others struck through.
As you walk beside him
on the trail by the creek
he stops, at a large old oak-
initials fading, yet clear.
He says, I always knew that girl
and I would be married.
Further up, you cross on flat stones
where the creek is shallow, winding
with the path through silver sycamores
you come to a small white church
marked with a large red heart. Behind it
a headstone circled in black. He carefully
folds the map; hands it to me, gently.
It's yours now, son-
you'll know where to find me.