! The Girl Who Was A Waiter - Poem by Michael Shepherd
'We never care for the present moment. We are so foolish that we wander in times that are not ours, and never think of the only time that belongs to us; we are so frivolous that we dream of the days that are not, and thoughtlessly pass over the only one that exists. We never live, but hope to live; and since we are always preparing to be happy it is inevitable that we shall never be so.'
- Blaise Pascal
(1623 - 1662)
French philosopher and mathematician
Not a waitress; just a waiter.
Though she sees herself as
a planner; a Girl With Plans.
Mid-January; travel brochures
all over the sofa; and not decided yet.
But it’s just such fun – she’s been like that
since she was a little girl – the future’s always
golden, shining, full of possibility…
the present simply doesn’t compare..
She’ll take an early holiday this year; and then,
a whole summer of café tables, clubs;
she, tanned and glowing, sharp eyes skinned
for – no, not Mr Right – that’s silly chick-mag stuff.. but
a Truly Meaningful Relationship…
oh she just can’t wait. Though wait she will.
Then, it will all fall into place; glowing
with life, she’ll get that new job
which must be waiting for the glowing her, and with
more money, then that sure success which she knows
is just waiting in her to surge out;
feeling that good, how could people
miss the potential sparkling dormant there?
She’s in good shape for a girl
in her late 30s; and what is that these days?
She doesn’t throw herself at men, more
than a girl looking for a TMR has to do;
looks them long and straight between the eyes,
letting them know that here they’ve met
a Girl With Plans; and that, soon
sorts them out..
Time to look at those brochures again;
she just can’t wait to begin to live;
until then, what to do but wait?
Her much-loved cat is wiser in its way than she:
living only in the present, and well content with that;
while she just waits her life away.
[based on a character-sketch from Ernst Tolle’s ‘The Power of Now’]
Comments about ! The Girl Who Was A Waiter by Michael Shepherd
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You