The Doorman
I pass a doorman daily
When I’m finishing my walk.
He calls out, “How you doing, ma’am?”
But we don’t really talk.
Of course, I say good morning
And perhaps a word or two
Is exchanged about the weather;
More than that, we don’t pursue.
In December, he went missing,
A replacement at the door.
Was he sick or maybe fired?
Those sweet greetings were no more.
Then a week or two ago, voila!
He waited with a smile
And the friendliest hello I’ve heard
In much too long a while.
Where’ve you been? I had to ask him
With no explanation owed me
But he grabbed his phone and pictures
Of his newborn daughter showed me.
I was touched and wished him all the best
And he was all a’glow
As we shared a special moment
Though our names we do not know.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2022
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