One day nearer

North, south, east and west the
crossroads lies,
the compass in my heart has died.
My truth, my True North
was you -
we are the far, the few.

At the roadend mile, there is
no stile to climb - the road goes
on up the hill, but of you the sign
is down near the water's edge -
each year the stone wears
and is more drear.

I get old, my bones are weakened,
I am compromised.  I still see
your smiling face and hear your laugh,
I walk through the trees and love
the birdsong on my right and left

as I follow the lane down
to the crossroads
which takes me nowhere but back home.
One day nearer you.

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