Her Ginger Hair, a Beacon in the Gloam

Her ginger hair, a beacon in the gloam,
She waits, wistful, in the coffee shop's warm embrace.
The day's work done, her heart now turns to home,
Where love awaits, with gentle, tender grace.

Through the window, daylight fades away,
As shadows dance and flicker in the street.
Her thoughts of him, her love, her guiding ray,
Whose presence soon will make her heart complete.

Oh, Wordsworth, if you were here today,
You'd sing her praises, with your poet's tongue.
Of her beauty, her charm, her gentle sway,
As she awaits, her heart with longing stung.

The coffee shop, a bustling, vibrant place,
But in her mind, a world of two they share.
For in her lover's arms, she finds her space,
Where love and happiness forever fare.

So let us raise a glass to the ginger-haired maid,
Whose love inspires, her beauty knows no bounds.
May she and her lover forever be swayed,
In a love that forever echoes and surrounds.