Not the trains,
But the broken ties
Of the abandoned railway.
Not the highway,
But the trails, overgrown, buried
under rotted trees.
The derailments of an unplanned life.
The wanderings of an uncompassed hike.
Too late now for Romeo,
I hunt the tracks beneath the rust
The path beneath the brush.
Walking up the pebbled driveway
To your white new door
This beating heart,
A cup of breath.