Map to Living

The lines beneath my fingers tracing,

excitement flows, my heart is racing.

Georgia to Maine.

Given to me by an odd man,

Dreamer just as me.

It lies in a shoebox full of pictures,

and in my poetry.

The one true way to lose myself in mountains green, white and blue.

Bounding down a twisting trail with only time to lose.

Blistered feet and mountain streams,

I'll have it no other way.

And while I trace this map I'll wait a year, five months, and three days.