Paths Not Taken

I found a map, stained and creased,

its yellowed edges like a timepiece,

a summer road trip, once a game,

grasping at routes, lost in the same.

A child's scrawl marking where we went,

marked our laughter, each mile well spent.

Intricate lines like veins of a leaf,

carving memories, both joy and grief.

It folds and unfolds, a map of the heart,

calling me back to where it all starts.

Every dotted line is a dream on the run,

a compass pointing toward the setting sun.

To places unseen, where shadows play,

leading me gently, but can’t stay away.