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. ; )
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