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A poem written on a napkin composed in a cafe'


Waiting for latte' can be a chore,
looking at my watch, and waiting by the door.

Anticipating the flavor and smelling the aroma,
I hope the waitress hurries before I go into a coma.

My life saving cup is finally brought while I nap,
and the waitress awakes me by spilling it on my lap.

The moral of the story is for latte's sans distress;
Don't go to cafe's where you didn't tip the waitress.

Copyright; Coffee Man Joe
Email: [email protected]



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