I Am Here Poem, by Chuck Peterson, at My poetic side

I am here—

at the corner bus stop,

I fold the same receipt

into smaller and smaller squares,

as though careful hands

might make the numbers

hurt less.

I am here.

A man checks his watch.

A child tugs at a sleeve.

Someone drops a dollar

without looking at my face.

I smile anyway—

not for the dollar,

but for the second

someone saw I was there.

I am here.

I thank the waitress

for calling me by name

as she sets down my coffee.

It has been three days

since anyone else

remembered

I had one.

I am here…

Your eyes crossed my face

like sunlight across a wall—

and to you,

I was never there.

Comments +

sorenbarrett August 12th, 2026 05:51
Lovely Chuck this write speaks of loneliness and isolation a recognition of self that others don't give. It speaks of a world too busy to recognize others and a self that longs for contact and can not find it. Too many people too little warmth. Well written and a fave

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