Coffee Shop

The weather outside seemed quite dull that day.
Clouds in the sky, and the flags did not sway
Like they usually did on those dark eves
When its the sunlight, the dark clouds do thieve.
The day is still young.  The hour still early.
When on the cool, dark day, we would surely
See many of the regulars eavesdrop
On the customers of this coffee shop.
There is nothing here I can do instead
Than do what the regulars do, foresaid.
And its from this dark crook, I can observe
Dozens of people the waitresses serve.
The inside, the outside does juxtapose:
The lively, bright band playing weekend shows,
The steaming, hot milk are the sounds well known,
And the sweet taste of the cran-orange scone.


I'm drinking my Frappuccino on ice,
Watching the waitress.  Her smile's so nice.
I can tell by watching, she's new to work,
But she brings to the shop an extra perk.
She had short, red hair, parted and curled tight.
And a smile, a sight reserved, and polite.
When she walked about, she's light on her feet.
Her hands and her feet, a size quite petite.
The green apron falls light over her chest,
Hugging tightly to where her young bod crests.
She had a beauty, which had been unseen,
Even though she had just reached seventeen.
From her face, I could tell she was friendly.
I smile at her, she poured me more coffee.
She could probably see across the room
That there's something I wanted, she'd assume.
I asked her her name and she smiles at me
While handing me a biscotti for free,
She told me she probably shouldn't say,
And she had walked off, across the cafe.