(07new!) Faith Poem by Max Reif
(07new!) Faith
The buffet opens
and no one comes.
The waiters stand around
in their white shirts
crisp as the tablecloths.
The food is the day's offering,
regardless of its fate,
and a poet
sits at his table drinking tea,
scrawling in his notebook
another sacrament of words.
Max I can see you sitting there, and understand this poem so well. A slice of life penned to perfection. It's what you don't say that you convey so eloquently. love, Allie xxxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/9/2026 12:12:22 AM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
You write regardless of who comes, but this one has been tasted and it's good.