The Compass

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Not all who wander are lost.

Submitted: February 05, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 05, 2010

A A A

A A A


In a clearing

where tribes

once worshipped,

Wendy

placed a compass

in my hand.



"But shouldn't

you keep it?"

I worried.


She laughed,

and turned

purposefully

towards

the thick of the forest

surrounding us.



"WAIT!" I cried out--

the arrows

spinning wildly

in my palm.


"You're going the wrong way!"


She stopped

and smiled.


One step away

from dissolving

into the trees.


"Honey,

just because you're lost

doesn't mean

we all are."



Copyright 2009-2010


© Copyright 2018 A. J. Meader. All rights reserved.

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