The Waiter

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I was inspired to write this poem by a man I saw on the street as I rode by in the car. He seemed to be waiting for something I couldn't explain, and I gave him a story from my imagination.

Submitted: June 22, 2017

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Submitted: June 22, 2017



The waiter stands on the streets every day

Underneath buildings and skies of grey.

They all pass by, they do not see

The same things in their lives as he.

Where they see joy, he sees pain,

And where there is sunshine, rain.


But he sees something they cannot.

He sees hope when all is lost.

He sees the future of their world,

With story yet to be unfurled.

And where they see darkness, he sees light,

And all stars in the darkest night

He stands there waiting every day

For that distant time when they

Will see the message that he brings

While the world around him with sorrow sings.


Underneath the golden sun, his ebony skin shines.

And beneath a tan cloak is his face,

Etched hard with careworn lines.

The ones who listen are always blessed,

But are always very few.

So be patient and listen to what he says

Until the words are through.

© Copyright 2018 Rose Starlight. All rights reserved.

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