Uncharted Paths

I found an old map folded tight,

a relic of places that vanished from sight.

Ink stains of memories scattered and worn,

tracing the paths where our family was born.

Each crease like a vein, holding stories untold,

streets that once pulsed with laughter, now cold.

A journey long faded, yet etched in my mind,

a map of my roots, the ties that still bind.