French Girls Love Starbucks: a poem

Staff Writer
Paper cup for coffee with space for design isolated on white background
Aye, a brisk day of twenty-fourteen,
And I a young lad,
Upon the brink of 5:30 PM
And I shivered a tad,
Thus I marched towards Starbucks,
And took a seat inside,
When this brilliant girl walks in,
And I find a place to hide,
With seconds to think,
I dug my face into my textbook,
Trying to act lost in my studies,
When anxiety overtook,
“Hey!” She said,
from across the room,
For I phase I didn’t hear,
But alas, such gesture t’was my doom,
So on she went,
To order her drink,
And on I went,
To turn more and more pink,
Not leaving immediately
She said “good-bye, ” instead,
And I looked right at her,
But not a word was said,
Thus marks how I met,
This fabulous girl,
Through an awkward encounter,
I got to meet me oyster’s very own pearl,
It was her coy smirk,
That I gained peak I’m sure,
And all it took,
Was “Bonjour.”