He was got off at the wrong stop

Asking for his brother in the sun.

stunned, and scared, by unknown streets

and asking, searching for someone

Looking, asking, looking, peering

Stumbling as if words were strange

And the neighbour brought him up to us

to ask what we might re-arrange -

- to a small courageous woman

holding his thinking in this place

holding this huge and clumsy giant

holding trust with a pleasant face

 

Hours it seemed she spoke there

While we pygmies stood at hand

Fearful of the blundering power

of a big grey dusty man.

 

At last they came, the men in blue

with badges, truncheons, even guns

and took him back to somewhere cold

he looked at her, into the sun

A shaggy St. Bernard in a kennel

confined, confused and almost blind

And she could do no more for him

Just ask the captors to be kind.

 

And someone said “He’s just a soul

-  lost and poor and gone astray”

- off at the wrong stop all his life

WE just called the men that day.

 

We all have now one final hope

that when it seems we’re lost, undone,

we all will find a small brave woman

standing, caring, loving, in the sun.