Dear stranger on the train,
More than two decades ago
you handed me a portrait
of me that you drew in pencil
on our commute.
I thanked you,
more with surprise
than true gratitude,
as you exited
three stops before me.
Now it’s been
four states,
ten homes,
one graduation,
one marriage,
one child,
one divorce,
two years of single parenting,
and two years of loving again
with your work
framed on my walls,
and I needed it.
You found me beautiful
enough to paint
(albeit in pencil)
and in the midst of
the rest of my life
you have reminded me
that somewhere
someone
someday
found me worthy of
honor and appreciation.
You loved me
for twenty minutes,
twenty years ago,
and it has been enough
for a lifetime.
I remain,
yours always.
This was written as part of National Poetry Writing Month 2021, sparked by a prompt from Suleika Jaouad in last year’s Isolation Journals to write a letter to a stranger.