He stood proud and strong
Against all he knew was wrong
His clothes were made of Knight’s white
In darkness, a beacon so bright
Behind the metal he stood

In the dawn of his waking hour
He stood among the crowds glower
Of daily lives to be saved
No applause was given, and none was craved
Except from a woman young and small

She stood before him tears gleaming
‘for the babe in her arms was screaming
The language he spoke was forign
But for that she would adore him
Because it was the only one she knew

The Knight handed her a vile
With clear instructions for the child
And for her to see him again if it didn’t help
Her tears and joy turned into a small yelp
As she turned and was off with her ill child

He smiled as he watched her go
Another saved and back on the road
The phrase “Hero” and “White Knight” meant nothing to him
Only “PHARMASIST” on his tag in gold trim
Was his motivation for waking each day