Waitress
Carrying white smooth porcelain to
her forty high honored guest,
For the next ten slow hours
fulfilling taxed request,
They'll be blessed,
with charitable glee and a
benevolent spirit,
that few see.
Children's new school books,
desired looks,
half price sales,
and the cost of fuel swells,
are on her mind,
minimum wages that bind,
anchored deep to a
bordered story-line.
A forced smile.
A blanket to cover,
the loss of an impassioned lover.
They said he would roam
and leave you all alone,
melting your heart built home.
Left you are trapped,
because he could,
your heart rolls in the dry rivers of should.
You're my princess,
come over here,
I am a real man,
do not fear.
Let me love you through
and through
and lend you a strong hand
bound for love from sacred land.....
© 2009 Michael Achilles