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My Compass, Old man's Map
As I tread this long path
the one i so boldly chose
i come to a fork in the road
not knowing where it goes
I hold a compass in my hand
but the needle is broken
when i came across an old man
i had given it to him as a token
When the old man saw the compass
he asked for the needle,that's all
in exchange he gave me his map
and left,in the frosty air of fall
Now i open his wrinkled, map but
all i see is a crudely drawn heart
at the exact place i now stand, so
i smile,turn back,for a fresh start
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