Original Poems

trays

(the life of a busboy)

the work it pays not much it’s true
so little from much effort gleaned
the stacks of trays that must be cleaned
and plates and cups and dishes too

for tips are gold and kindness rare
from drudgery is no escape
to lift and carry clean and scrape
for thoughtless diners who don’t care

and at the end of matching days
crushed full beyond all real explain
to work unnoticed in the main
and feel like just so many
trays

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