The Way I Read Your Map - Poem by anne seite
I smooth out the familiar parchment of your life - gently - with the flat of my hand,
and run my finger along bridle-paths, looking like dried riverbeds etched in sand.
All the valleys, glens and the hills that I follow, are now so well-known to my touch,
I will never get lost, nor miss the signs that lead to the places I love so much.
Down each lane I can travel, draw my hand through downs, caress smooth, undulating plains.
Then move through sheltered places, rest a while, enjoy the peace of mind my life then gains.
For no matter the paths my fingers trace, nor if I wander from the beaten track,
I'll not fail to find the highest point on your map, nor forget which roads lead me back.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about The Way I Read Your Map by anne seite
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You