WHERE THE MAPS WON’T

 

Journey across time with calendar wings,
moments packed like spare t-shirts
and extra socks,
passport in one hand and
a window seat to the right;
an empty notebook penciled by thought –
its white void the clouds
that fuel your glorious lungs

Honeymoon with more sky and fewer limits,
bound at the ankles by freedom
– and spontaneity, by chance –
the fresh juice of destiny
your north in every glass of south;
a stomach full of butterflies
to take you to places the maps won’t

Voyage, gift-wrapped in mystery,
each sunrise peeled apart with branching arms;
that new car smell
to steer you upon the magic
of rhyming skies and watercolour footprints –
companionship in purpose
embedded into the souls
of all who climb the peaks of your dreams
beside you

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 July, 2016

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