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.