Waiters' days are never done.
"Hello, how many in your party" stuck in heads,
Keeping that fake smile on for the entirety.
Hoping for those dollars and cents after the meal,
They take it back to their families, every penny counted.
Life is found to be difficult in these conditions.
Work ethic is often found and often expressed
With little reward as they return the next day,
Hanging on to what they have.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem