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