These roads long unraveled-
My little plastic compass
Picked up before I traveled
Twirls under the needle, twists
Dances into the ever new
Pretty little child’s toy
Who knew how well I could do
With a trinket near-destroyed
From its first day
Now that needle floating
Guides my way
I followed that thing
When the north star fell silent
And my childhood wallpaper peeled
Under the echoes of forgotten violence
I rode the painted lines, the blue steel
Teeth of interstate highways
Midnight miles of introspection
Armed with a toy compass that stays
Pointed in the right direction.
The best things never change.
viewingcamelot 
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