Nikki Anne Schmutz writes

Topographical

We are a road map -

highways of years

marked

by events,

cities of experience,

vacation spots of smiles,

waterways of pain.

I can follow it

with my finger -

trace the years as we

mingle and divide.

Like a railway

certain paths

cannot be moved,

only traveled upon

in a perpetual

forward motion

that cannot be stopped.

The forks in the road

will never merge,

paths taken

cannot be rewound.

The speedometer of life

clicks away

keeping track

of the miles

now between us.

Like a mirage

in the heat of summer

on the blacktop

I am uncertain

what we had

ever existed.