You and I are at that place where roads cross—
a new place made by the need for things
going in different directions to meet.
How lonely if all roads
veered off on their own, solitary,
never coming to a junction.
It might have been thus, but for
a thousand small decisions that led to this meeting,
here on this corner of your road and my road.
We meet here and become one for as long
as we both decide to stand talking like neighbors,
each of us having veered
halfway away from private territory
to come to the spot here in the middle
where we become two parts of a center.
Neighbor, lover,
friend, acquaintance,
interloper, by-passer
or strangers when we meet,
so many possibilities
in the crossed roads
of our lives.
for dVerse Poets


