He’d scrounge up all his change
And head on off to the drive-through;
He knew that she would be there between
Ten o’clock and two
But she was shy, and so was he
They’d barely even speak;
Although he went there all time
The highlight of his week
As she’d give him his drink and food
She’d say, “Have a good day”
And then she’d smile a moment
Before he would drive away
But one bright day at noontime
After she said what she’d say
He looked right at her, and he said
“To me *you’re* a good day
See, every day I see your smile
Is one good day; and then
I cannot wait to scrounge the change
To see that smile again
I’m asking you, if you have time,
If you’d go out with me;
I’ll understand, if you say no:
Then I’ll be history.”
There were some cars behind him
As he looked up in suspense;
Then she took out some napkins
And one of the restaurant pens
And scribbled down her phone number
And tossed it down his way;
And said, “You call me anytime.
This has been
A good day.”
To share is human:
That is precious! And what I love most about this poem may surprise you — that she wrote her number on a napkin, she didn’t text it to him. I love that old-fashioned kind of communications, writing on a napkin or a match book cover or the back of a hand. Then you have something extra special to daydream about. Texting is not sexy — a napkin is! Great job!!
She gave him something real to remember her by.
Aaaaaaw. Smiling for having read this!