I met her when I was little; I don’t remember her name.

Her eyes resembled galaxies, her voice the song of the sea.

She was made of something more than boring little me.

I always knew she was different; there was no denying that.

She claimed to be from somewhere else, but could never remember where.

I asked about it constantly; my soul needed to know.

She would tell me all these stories, crazy tales of fantasy.

Sometimes they seemed a bit realistic, but not something I could be.

There was a strangeness to her voice, something out of this world.

When she remembered her home, she would tell me tales.

Her voice would shake with emotion–bad or good, I couldn’t tell.

She missed her home so deeply; she would always say.

I promised her that I would help her return there one day.

As I began to grow up, my memories of her faded.

One day I never saw her or heard her voice again.

I would visit the ocean; I could almost hear her voice.

As if she’d been a lost spirit of the big, beautiful sea.

The wind pulled at my hair, the water at my ankles.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to dive into the waters.

I remember the whoosh of the water surrounding my head.

I opened my eyes to see those galaxies stare deep into me.

‘Wayfarer’ the word echoed quietly in my head.

Then those galaxies faded, and I took my last breath.