The Waiter

[jim turner]

Forty, once.
Twice that now, and more.
Waiting.

Waiting all those years
in Abbott’s Flatland,
seasons without salt,
no hill to climb,
no valley on its other side.

I shouldn’t have waited.
I should’ve lived
till I was forty.

Jim 4/15/2009

[dadio]

I sense Philip Larkin's sentiments here. Mine too at times. But I do like the honesty of this poem, Jim, and its set out.

[happytrails]

Very good. I don't believe for a minute that you have any wasted years behind you, but a good poem about someone who might have some wasted years.