mapping the path

dust off the trail
and waken the winds
bend back the grasses
and point the birds
flying home
unpack the sky
and cast the stars
across the plain
retrace those lines
of our goodbye
leave today
for the beggars
and tomorrow
for the young
it’s yesterday’s gold
that shines
like the dawn
pull out the map
creased and torn
and follow the road
where we’ve
been and gone
follow the path
all the way home

© Sarah Whiteley