"You were rude to one of my staff,"

Said the man with an air of authority

Who had just emerged

From the cosy cocoon of his office -

A man who had not been standing on aching legs,

Interminably waiting,flailed by icy, wind-driven rain,

Under a leaking roof that spattered water

On the few meagre seats, their legs marooned in puddles,

Forcing the passengers, he was responsible for,

To huddle against the barred door

Of a waiting room permanently out of service.

He addressed his words to a young man

Not of these shores, his swarthy good looks

And the tailoring of his suit bespoke this.

The youth,

Bewildered by the confrontation,

Shamefacedly muttered an apology.

And I,

The epitome of an English gentlewoman,

Who had been abused day after day

With disservice and disrespect,

Who had withstood it all, up to that momnet,

With stolid dignity,

Felt like bawling out obscenities

Like a fishwife,

Clamped my lips -

For in the background

Hovered two predatory bully-boys-

The rail police,

Waiting to cart both him and me away.

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