My Best Day
She came to me when I brought in carts
and she was filling online grocery orders.
I gestured to her and handed her a poem
just written the other day, but I just
had to share it with her
line and verse.
It was a day in April
when a grove of trees
were in full bloom
and the air full of promise.
I took a poetic leap
although it felt
as if I’ve loved her
for years.
She clenched my paper in her hand
said she’d read it during lunch.
I told her to read between the lines
then read it again.
Others left the break room
when we sat together
and a moment of silence said
more than I ever could.
I was retired from my job
of traveling and controlling traffic
for work crews in other states
and learning to live again
while she now working full-time
after divorce.
And four months earlier
she asked me if I was staying.
In the break room
the moments we shared
when I offered her some extra food
passed with a whisper
and an hour later
someone in customer service
said I had to clear a spill
in an aisle where she stood—
she asked for me.
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