The Campfire

She sat by the campfire,
With the a sparkle in her eye,
And she listened to guy from Cayman Islands.
He spun tales about life at home, and how it was.
She sipped her hot tea made from wild anise,
She had heard it said, it calms the belly and aids digestion.
Her imagination floated on the strangers words.
And she felt his dialect to her very bones.
His lyrical words they called her in,
And hushed her worried soul.
As she gazed into the campfire
She forgot all the reasons she ran away from home.
Her thoughts were of making it someday,
The Islands where the spoken word,
Sounded like so much music,
And the laughter had a lilt of it's own.
And as he continued to speak and the tea warmed her,
She fell asleep by the fire, in her bed roll, her home away from home.
Before she knew it, in the morning dew, the sun finally rose.
And the world was damp with the day that had been born.
The campfire was merely warm coals,
And the guy from the Cayman Islands was gone.
And everyone else was very much into them selves.
She rolled up her bed roll, and found her friends around other sites,
Where ever they had roamed, and they decided north or south today?
Then the girls turned toward the highway with a heavy sigh,
And wondered where the road would take them today????
Where would the road take them today?
5/6/2004