Snapshot

I sit on her third floor
          balcony at 11:57 a.m.

writing my second
          poem of the day looking

at the street. It is
          autumn but feels like

the best summers day.
          She is still sleeping. I

know when she
          wakes she will cry

out for me to hold
          her, tell me she loves

me once more. An
          Uber Eats delivery

driver gets off his
          bike and prays on

the dirty sidewalk,
          a passing car honks

its horn. She calls
          me from the bedroom.

I lift my phone and
          take a photo. Knowing

it will never get
          better than this.