Justine Knolle
Roaming the Land
Do not ask me where I am going.
For I myself do not know.
I follow intuition,
And I go with the flow.
Do not ask me for the time.
For I have no watch,
No clock, no dial.
I’ve been on the road some time,
I do not know –
A while.
Do not ask me for my name.
For I have none, I am
A nameless dame.
I am a roaming gipsy girl,
Walking the land,
That is green, lush and rural.
With no goal, no end,
No destination.
I have all the time.
I can be patient.
When I get there,
I will feel,
This is the place
Where I will heal.
I will set up camp,
A homely stead,
Where I will find
A man to wed.
He is out there now,
Roaming the land.
And, when I find him,
Will ask for my hand.
Hand in hand,
We shall walk from then.
From land to land,
Until the end.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Justine Knolle.
Published on e-Stories.org on 06.07.2006.
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