Maven of rhyme tilted her head upon reading the coffee clerk’s note.

“Think poetic heart?” she merrily mused at the oh-all-too-apt quote—

Whilst she munched away at croissant even as tumbly began to bloat.

And, while beverage mellowed, she sipped first the cream still stirring afloat.

Then, a rush catching self as the crush on whom barista wished to dote.

“Que sera, sera,” she mouthed at advice already heeded as wrote. ; )