The traveller looked out of place As he walked along the way. People were asking who he was, But he wasn’t going to say.
His appearance was unusual; Flowing gown -- determined pace, His eyes didn't stray from the road ahead; And he had this certain grace.
A few people now had gathered, But didn’t try to get too near; They just followed on in silence, There was just a hint of fear.
When the market place came into view, He began to slow his pace, Slowly now, he looked around; Pure innocence on his face.
As he turned to meet the crowd; A young woman struggled through, Her hands before--as if in prayer; She alone knew what was true.
She ran up to the traveller, Arms twined in warm embrace, And as she held him tenderly; A tear ran down her face.
A policeman now came into view, Attracted by the crowd, He didn’t try to interfere, But stepped back with head bowed.
The lady took the offered hand, On this special day; The silent crowd then parted, And the Son was led away.
"You must not go out on your own, It's not safe for you, or me," His answer was an angelic smile; Her son was only "three".
© Gerald Finlay, 2003. All Rights Reserved.
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