The Flower Child

Her hair was soiled and matted,
and died an odd shade of red.
She was wearing combat boots,
looking very underfed.
-
Her clothes were worn and ragged,
I just could not get involved
with such a loathsome creature
who had problems unresolved.
-
Then a soft voice spoke to me
to ask my destination.
I couldn't just ignore her
and so, with resignation,
-
I answered, and a pleasant,
long conversation ensued.
I found inside the cover,
a beautiful attitude.
-
We talked of life and living,
and the reasons we were here.
We talked of love and sharing,
and of courage and of fear.
-
Her years were only nineteen,
with a wisdom so profound.
I learned a valued lesson
from this child who'd been around.