#WritcoPoemChallenge
The journey has come to an end,
Weaving through meandering paths,
Sometimes alone, often with a friend.

The journey to the end was
at the speed of wading through asphalt,
but at the end, with every twist along
a seemingly everlasting path
a friend was there.
open.
needed.
welcomed, even.

Hand on mine,
uncaring if this rubble
catches on our clothes and leave it
streaked with dirt,
singed with flames.

A friend was there.
ready to get lost with you.