Waitress, by George Chow Subscribe to rss feed for George Chow

Is it the money?
Or the food that fits your tolerance.
If to serve you with my line,
Will you have the humble accept.

Is it the money?
Or the food that fits your tolerance.
If the dead and the cook just want to be friends,
Will you show me your pride how you value life.

Is it the money?
Or the food that fits your tolerance.
If all it matters is what makes you are.
Will the meal be satisfied by the waitress' eyes.
Posted: 2013-10-26 23:35:10 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.
Tweet