The Waitress Poem by Mary Champion

'You are welcome! She said - like she meant it
and her smile, warm as a summer sunrise,
lit up the dingy café - a permit -
he thought, as he looked straight into her eyes,
to deepen their acquaintance. So, he asked
her name and how she came to be around,
because her accent clearly broadcast
that she had not been brought up in this town.
A shadow passed across the brilliant dawn,
'Just trying to escape myself.' She shrugged.
'I felt quite out of place where I was born
and then there was this man - the one I loved.'
'Did it work out well? ' What right had he
to question her like this? He felt ashamed.
'Not really! Guess it wasn't meant to be.'
She didn't seem offended, so he framed
further questions, ‘til she had to go
to serve the other customers who'd come
into the café. Many seemed to know
her and he saw the smile bestowed on them
and how they seemed encouraged by its glow.

He thanked her as he left. His heart was lead -
that smile again, 'You're welcome, Sir! ' She said.