French Girls Love Starbucks: a poem

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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.”

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