Maps
This map has grown lines,
deep creases, curled corners,
since you've been gone.
Tear-stains and fingerprints
mar its wrinkled pages like scars,
mocking markers
of where you've gone.
Mum's face has grown lines
around her mouth and eyes
since you've been gone.
And each sunrise tallies the days,
fading the map's mosaic of colours
as time fades the memory
of your silly smile.
This map is a liar:
It tells me you're nearby,
only a page-length away.
But an entire world separates us.
Cities and countries and continents.
Rivers and lakes and oceans.
Land and sea
have taken you from me.
And I want you back.
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