She was happy, she was free.She was walking along the street jauntily waving her tote bag.Nimble-feet they called her and so she was.She loved life,loved the sights and sounds around her,the sunkissed pine trees lining the boulevard.There was a spring to her step.She was all about life at its best.They said stop.You are too fragile.You will never win.You are a girl.But she never paid any heed and marched along.She cried,she fell,she was hurting but she rose again.Fighter they call her now.Like a phoenix,rising from the ashes again and again.
She stopped.She perched herself on the rock and sat with her feet dangling down.She looked at the vastness that lay ahead.The steep gorge which could give anybody the chills.She was not afraid.She never knew what it was like to be afraid.She lit a cigarrette and sat there puffing away.And as the smoke wafted around her,she felt alive.So what if it seemed like an endless fight,so what if it was cold and lonely.She knew she was a warrior.She knew she was a winner.Just like a true Trojan,she muttered to herself…Fight On!
