When a road
comes unbraided, where do I look
To decide where I need to go:
Into my heart, up to the sky,
To the eyes of an old friend I know?
Or perhaps I'll just
daydream
and trust my feet,
Born to run as they were,
And own every leap, 'til the
asphalt-weeds whisper,
"This road? It belongs
to her..."
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