Taste of Hope

Rushing to tables, to people Mostly strangers in vibrant colors Hungry for more than biscuits Starving for a kind word, a smile All those years, through tears And often through tired fears I hurried past eager voices, accents Telling and retelling of life journeys Dishes piled up on empty tables Waiting to be cleared, scrubbed By faithful hands with wet rags Who left not a blemish or smudge Sprinting through the crowd Of diners, many off from work Taking their lunch break sometimes And an evening feast other nights Racing from one waiting diner to another Hoping to please them enough so They would leave a nice tip, my salary Dependent on their kindness, their gifts Waiting for the moment when departure Of the café would bring me their offering Their humanity poured out with a glass of tea And a plate full of hope from a waitress in need After making my rounds to the kitchen and back Into the shift of dashing from one table To the next with a cheerful smile and pitcher I long to know the ease of naked feet Feet that have felt the pangs of a few hours Of twisting and turning through the patrons Who never see the pain of aching backs And sore feet on the beaming face they meet Waitress' and waiters seldom tell the customer How difficult it is to simply absorb the discomfort Into a beaming grin of friendliness, embracing Both the heart and soul with hospitality and affection Gratuities left for me are blessings I breathe A heartfelt thanks for the moment I’m away from The restaurant’s heavy hustling and bustling That leaves me so exhausted I almost tremble Open Poetry 4 Contest Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot May 1, 2021