Dusted Compass

I have this little wayfaring compass
that I have used
since my childhood.

One which I had forgot existed.

Curiously enough, the compass always
leads me somewhere that I
Never thought I would step foot at again.

The other day it led me to
where we first met,
The next day to your favorite bar,
The next to the place where
You called me "yours".

Then, it seems, the compass lost its way,
After I was unable to find you,
Or contact you.

You were lost at sea,
And try as I might I
could not seem to locate you.

I figured that you found an oasis,
A lushly green little island
that you can finally call "yours".

Then I figured that the
Compass was playing nothing but
Meaningless tricks on me,
As your aura must have
Screwed around with the
Earth's natural field,
and straying me from my
intended course.

So I tossed it into the sand
as I landed back ashore,
And buried it through months of
Regret and self-pity,
For deciding to rely the
Entirety of my being on
Such a small measuring device.

Yet I could not seem to measure the
Magnitude of its accuracy, as
One fateful day you found it,
And tried to configure the
Dusted compass back to me.

Now it was sending you to
my favorite bookstore,
next to my favorite museum,
next to where I called you "mine".

As you retraced the steps that
I have desperately tried to cover,
You eventually uncovered the
New apartment that I found
by the docks.

You rung my bell,
And stated as you have before,
"May this captain finally
Land back ashore?"

I smiled, and realized that
that stupid old compass
has, indeed,
led me back to you