Just Another Day

Her Tuesday started
Just like
All the others…

Nondescript,
Neither joyful,
Nor threatening.

She made it
To the train on time,
Made it to the city on time,
Made it to her office on time,
Made it to monotony…

On time.

Promptly at 10am,
She left her desk
For coffee,
And another date
With her plain day.

Cobblestones underfoot
Added the only texture
To her morning,
Only to be hushed
When she arrived
At that corner cafe,
For the same cappuccino,
For the same dose of doldrums.

But on this morning,
She struggled to find
Her credit card,
To pay for her repetition
And routine
So familiar,
And empty,
For her.

Now embarrassment grew,
As she struggled to pay,
The line of customers,
Queued behind,
Starting to fidget.

That card was there,
Somewhere,
She was sure,
Just hiding
Amongst the items
She needed at the ready
In her handbag.

It was the side pocket,
She was certain,
Harboring that elusive
Card,

And this necessary
Financial transaction,

Required for her coffee.

But in that side pocket,
She found
Not the card,
But a small envelope,
Unexpectedly.

The queue,
Behind her,
No longer mattered,
Nor the blend
Of espresso
And steamed milk.

What mattered
Most to her
Was the revelation
Of words hidden,
For a few moments,
More.

Whatever it took,
In this time,
To complete the payment,
Was her focus…

Credit,
Cash,
It didn’t matter.

So with some
Readily available
Bills,
She moved
To a different spot
In that cafe…

And her
Day.

With trembling fingertips,
Now,
She disrobed
The truth
Clothed in parchment.

In that envelope,
Lay a simple,
Note from him.

Just the words

“I love you.”

And…

“You complete me.”

And in that time,
Just reading his hidden commitment,
Meant just for her,
At an unanticipated instance,

She knew,

And relished,
His true feelings.

Just in a moment,
This moment,

She understood,

And welcomed,

That today,

Was not…

Just another day.

© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

8 thoughts on “Just Another Day

  1. You finally did it! 🙂
    There are so many lines to love: Cobblestones underfoot/Added the only texture; She moved/To a different spot/In that cafe…/And her/Day; She disrobed/The truth/Clothed in parchment — all lines to die for.
    But I think the most telling element of your feelings behind the poem for her is how involved you were and made your readers feel. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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