On a dreary day too poor for a name,
He dragged himself down to the little café,
Flat white and a paper, always the same,
He fumbled for coins and something to say,
His hand struck silver, but his mind no gold,
The coffee machine frothed a mocking hiss,
His soft fingers touched the counter so cold,
And there she was, a sunny shining miss,
All glowing with life and lighter than air,
Pink lemonade cheeks and strawberry lips,
A chef’s hat hiding her blonde wistful hair,
Uniform jealously guarding her hips,
As soon as she smiled, his fears departed,
And that praise God was how it all started.
Dean Meredith
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stray-cat-caf/
