Here is a little note to all of my Starbuck girls, giving you a prospective from my little world.
I live all alone in a house with four beds, and if you’re counting, also three heads.
I rise every day ‘fore the suns in the sky, I keep one blind open so it shines in my eye.
To the kitchen to make coffee, four scoops in the screen, I don’t know why, it’s just my routine
For drink it I won’t, not one little sup, these days I prefer my coffee in a paper cup.
It’s not as nice as the silver or the china at home, but it has something special, the reason for the poem.
The Starbucks people I meet where my coffee is served, they’re incredible, much more than I deserve
They have smiles on their faces scurrying around; “Hi Bob” in the morning is such a wonderful sound
They each have a mission a job to perform, but my greeting each day is so kind and so warm.
I know why the place is crowded each day, a smile, “Hello” and coffee made, your special way.
I look at the smiles as people exit the place, their day has been brightened it shows on their face.
And on that occasion when a person’s not kind, share your smile but pay them no mind.
People come for coffee we know that is true, but they also come so they can see you.
You pick them up and put hope in their day, that all they might touch will just go their way.
This you must realize, its importance you must know, you’re the opening act, you start the show.
Doctors and lawyers, teachers and more, Bankers and brokers all come through your door.
Humbled by your kindness, thankful for what you do, please forgive the grumpy ones
I know they are thankful too!