Here is my object
It has a special meaning
It's more than a compass
One covered in rust
One covered in dust
And a needle that turns
Ever so slightly with my every moveHere is my object
I present it to you
I use it to adventure
My ancestors did too
Like Christopher Columbus
When he sailed the ocean in 1492
Accompanied by this silver compass
Covered in rust
Covered in dustHere is my object
It's been to hell and back
I use it to navigate
From my small treehouse in the woods,
My friends house,
And back
I use it to dream
I am a traveler
With pirates as my team
And my small, silver compass
Covered in rust
Covered in dust
YOU ARE READING
A Girl I Used to Know
PoetryCollection of poems, free writes, and pieces I've written from a young age up until now.