There were no children in my life today.
I spent the better part of it alone,
And working. It's the most effective way
To use the time; and honestly, I've grown
To like it. All except that vacant space
Where there should be a presence, or a voice;
I work, to trick the absences I face,
And make them think there's no one here by choice.
At six, I took a break to walk in town.
I bought a cup of coffee, then sat down
To write; somewhere a toddler said hello.
The voice was tiny. And I had to know
If this was someone I had ever met.
It wasn't. But I don't think I'll forget
The sound. The single word had washed away
The quiet, leaving peace. I chose to stay,
And just gave up on writing in the din,
To let this tiny stranger's cadence in.