Strange that day I waited for the bus,
all packed to bring you home again. My mind
flew with you across the sea. I thought of us
and how long absences can be unkind.
But your arrival filled my inner eye;
the joy the heart can feel my heart felt.
One by one the others filed by.
The driver had not seen you, could not help.
And then the fear you might have come to harm,
frantic inquiries, an eternity on the phone,
relief that you had landed, but alarm
that you'd checked out, whereabouts unknown.
How could I see the bus was just a sign?
Something had stopped and at the end of the line.