12 Feb

by Nancy Scott

Lost in a strange state

named on a map but not mapped

in his knowing, he drives,

watches for signs,

apologizes his need

for reassurance; his need

not to be lost.


I’ve left myself behind,

perhaps at the Phillipsburg bridge

or at my front door,

knowing I won’t need

me till we find

our right place.

I’ll float back shaking

hands with people I’m supposed to know

or standing on a porch whose steps

I forget to measure.


I roam in highway hum,

smile comfort to my companion,

not saying I want the ride

to never end.


Nancy Scott, Easton, PA, is a blind essayist and poet.  Her over 600 bylines have appeared in magazines, literary journals, anthologies and newspapers, and as audio commentaries. An essayist and poet, she has published three chapbooks. She won First Prize in the 2009 International Onkyo Braille Essay Contest. Recent work appears in Breath and Shadow, Contemporary Haibun Online, and Stone Voices.

(Apologies from Vision Through Words for the formatting of the stanzas of this poem.  Something has changed in WordPress posting and being visually impaired myself, I’m still trying to figure out how to format poetic stanzas now!  But since this is a lovely poem for Valentine’s Day, I thought you’d like to read it sooner than later.)


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