In the café I wait on a Mega-Coffee
while the hours become late,
a cleaner with a mop chews on chewing gum or a toffee
and time and again stops working to stretch out
when my eye catches the glance of a beautiful waitress
with a cross hanging on her neck,
she brings my coffee; later do serve me with stake,
asks if anything else does suit me
where I ask her to join me
and I am searching for God; do ask her about her faith
but she is infatuated
and do invite me to her apartment where she tells me
about her life and she does provide me with pleasure,
promises so more pleasure if I stay longer
and it is my lot that I am still searching for God.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem