I can trace back the memories 

Like a roadmap of my life 

.

.

.

Each pit stop 

A part of my undoing 

.

.

.

Each rest stop 

A natural high 

.

.

.

You ask me not to look back 

At the hurt I have been caused 

.

.

.

But each landmark 

Is a permanent placeholder 

For what I’ve loved and what I’ve lost 

.

.

.

It is impossible for me to look at my life 

And erase the days I drove off the track

.

.

.

 far in the future

 I’ll be able to settle down 

Relax  my legs 

And unpack 

.

.

.

The collection mugs 

The silver spoons 

The pictures taken but never hung 

.

.

.

Put my feet up 

From the race I ran 

But never won 

.

.

.

I stare at my life 

Like a map 

Of the road trip 

I desperately wanted to take 

.

.

.

With all the beautiful pit stops 

I never planned 

But don’t regret 

That I have made