Every step we take
could have been a step
in another direction.
This time we choose
to go to the canal.
By the time we reach it
the day decides to stop
following us around.
While we are picking
our way down, watching our feet,
the park packs up, the city
moves a few miles away.
Children's voices are balloons
released to open sky.
Behind us footsteps fade,
streets turn into water.
Leaf by leaf, the day
grows smaller. Whoever we are now,
this has been bequeathed to us.
Every other claimant has stepped aside.
Our steps the only steps.
The last finger of light points out
landmarks we do not recognise.
Still, between the cobbled banks,
cradled by bare branches.
we know we will be safe.
Now, even the unknown path
will tow us home.