She charges forth with unwavering determination, Her strength fuels her stride as she trots across the globe She slices through her obstacles with practiced ease She reaches out and up to the sky, praying for wind And with her billowing skirts fluttering, the wind guides her onward Her deck is never hewn from stone, The salt collects and beads on her 'head, And we hope her bow never breaks on our travels

Were they here before? Many cultures think so. When distant designs align, some claim it must so. I know they exist, that part feels fact, but have they touched Earth? I still await proven fact.

I’m made of steps, yet not your feet, I grow with every mile you meet. No single place can call me home, I’m what you take each time you roam.

I originated in the outback. No matter how hard you throw me, I always come back.

I'm the concrete whisperer, guiding feet past bustling streets, where shadows meet and wheels retreat, yet I never take a seat.