The Vagabond
One day, I met a vagabond.
She wandered the world, roamed distant fields... and claimed she was happy.
One day, I met a vagabond.
She knew colourful stories and spoke of war.
She said she had seen pain, wept, tasted bitterness.
I don’t know who she was.
She was someone — nothing else mattered.
She spoke to me of wind and sea, of greenery trembling over snow, of rain and sun.
She spoke to me of life.
I don’t know where she came from.
She laughed like a child, ran freely and let herself be carried by the whims of time.
Light shone in her eyes,
And her smile was as sweet as the stars.
I don’t know what she did.
She whispered words of dream and magic into the ears of those who search without finding.
She embraced the sky and the earth... and she sang.
She was her.
She was HOPE.
She came and went like warmth,
Like the storm.
Melissa O'Neill /1988 (16 years old)
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