Why come to sit down at a table,
On a daily and regular basis...
With nothing brought to offer or share,
To equal or compare...
To that which has been prepared.
With a glaring at the setting to closely inspect,
As if to ensure a quality with standards...
Has been appropriately met.
Then with a nibble to finish and eat to complete,
All that has been served to digest.
Only to complain about those conversations,
Not suitable to meet your standards or taste...
You seem to regret.
And with a rating to leave,
You believe could and should be more impressive.
And yet,
When tomorrow comes...
You will be the first to arrive,
Again!
To judge, evaluate and not speak.
As if to imply the menu does not satisfy.
With a rating to leave to denote your presence.
Or a lack of it there to participate and engage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem