He did not notice her as she walked through the door,
Nor as she padded gingerly across the floor
To that decrepit old booth in the room’s corner,
Emitting an aura of a lost foreigner.
The frequent customers gazed at the new stranger,
As did the young waiter, diving into danger.
This had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

He stood by her lonely table to hear her choice,
Yearning to listen to the sound of that small voice.
He kept on stealing timid glances at that face,
Always looking down too rapidly just in case.
The empty palms of his hands seemed to be leaking
Pools of sweat that he quickly prayed were not reeking.
This had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

She skimmed the old-fashioned menu without much thought,
Her pale, empty eyes having nothing to be sought.
As she turned her head off to the other side, hair,
Long brown locks, fell off her shoulder into the air.
The words that next came out those delicate, pink lips
Entranced him so, his stomach began to do flips.
This had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

He presented to her a small cup of coffee,
Slinking back to his post feeling much too lofty,
As he stared helplessly at that one person who,
Unknowingly captured his mind and his heart too.
He watched her absentminded gaze out the window,
The passing cars outside setting her face aglow.
This had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.


Throughout the cold night as the business carried on,
It was that girl, whom the boy’s eyes rested upon,
Her pose never faltering, her drink never touched,
Setting an atmosphere that showed none too much,
Rendering the boy to want to embrace that girl,
To enter her life, to let her secrets unfurl.
This had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

Closing time rested upon that little café,
The girl at last put an end to her prolonged stay,
Leaving behind her an untouched, now ice cold, cup
And a heartbroken boy who can’t seem to get up
To chase after that wish of his, now out the door,
To plead to that unknown girl to come back once more.
That had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

Later that night as the boy sprawled across his bed,
Images of that girl flashed through his throbbing head;
Why was it that he was strongly drawn to her so?
And why, when she left, did he feel awfully low?
Oh, why did his poor heart ache for that lonesome girl?
All these questions really sent his mind to a whirl.
That had been her first time there in that quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

The following day, the boy trudged to his work place.
He hadn’t a single wink of sleep, showed his face.
Throughout the extensive morning to afternoon,
In his head only thoughts of that night before crooned,
So when that baffling girl entered in one more time,
The boy knew his luck had finally reached its prime.
It had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

And so the boy’s life at the café had begun,
As that girl entered in each day, perhaps for fun,
The boy did not know, only that he was happy,
Happy to be next to her, just like a love story all too sappy,
With her drink untouched, she stares outside unaware,
Of the growing feelings of the boy who worked there.
It had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

So this cute routine continued on for a while,
The boy as a waiter, serving the girl with a smile,
But much too sheepish to confront his new found love
To that girl, who seemed to have a lot to think of.
Perhaps she had problems of her own in her home.
Broken family? That’s an idea free to roam.
This had been her first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet the boy already wished it be not the last of her stays.

Winter was right around the corner for these two,
Both always coming in with a red nose in view.
One night, the boy caught the girl’s captivating eyes,
Not out that blank window this time, to his surprise,
But instead on her coffee cup in front of her,
Lifting it up, taking a small sip, on a spur.
What happened next to these two can not be put to words fairly,
For the boy had mustered up his courage, albeit warily.

Under an unknown impetus to approach her,
The girl he admired so, not feeling deterred,
The boy ventured across the room, his head ringing
That the distance to her was way too painstaking.
Alas, he reached her table, just like all the other times,
Not with coffee, but his heart to confess in rhymes.
“It had been your first time here in this quaintest of quaint cafés,
Yet I had already wished it be not the last of your stays”.