Grapefruit
Time, Chantelle, is bridge.
You worked, I, studied.
In school my boy and mind leaped.
Post office
Someone worked; long line of clients.
(Like you in Tim Horton)
People read, people wrote.
Some sneaked, some stared.
Tired man at counter, wore frown.
Paper sheet fell and a client
Saw, picked, changed atmosphere.
Handed it to the man at counter
With smile. Worker talked, new bound.
Care, respect and kindness always pay.
Same happened to you-I.
“Do not go, no, not yet.”
You told me; departed.
Came back with big fruit.
You gave me Grapefruit.
I can’t talk…your kindness
Fills my eye with tears.
Things have changed; you and I,
Worker and client; human and friends.
This is what you have carved in my mind.
Start was, you asking: “What you want? ”
“Like always; dark roasted, simple, black.”
I added: “Dark is best, has always.”
You are Black, had noticed by the time
My love for all mankind, equal.
Many thanks; you noticed and paid back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem