The Waitress. Poem by Ronald Strickland

Seating at a table a friend and I, wet and chilled from the rain and hunger at the time from the day that's gone by,

The Waitress walks toward the table with such grace that only a model could take her place.

"What will it be." I knew at that very moment it was going to be sweet tea for me.

Could not help but to notice the brightness in her eyes, I found myself strolling by a sea shore in paradise, just this angel and me.

Came the order. After the concern that everything was OK and she turned to walk away, I said your eyes and smile are words of poetry to me. I'll put these words into a poem for you to read.

If again an angel with beauty, I want to see.

I want the Waitress at Jenn's Place to bring me a sweet tea.