Tall Blonde

In the morning cloud of steam and beans,
Amidst the clatter and grinding machines,
Stood a figure, tall and blonde,
A barista of mystery, her story untold.

Guarded, she stood, with stoic grace,
A fortress of secrets etched on her face.
No smiles adorned her lips so fair,
But a world of emotions, lurking there.

Her movement deliberate, graceful, but deceives,
Concealing the treasures her heart retrieves.
In every step, a dance of disguise,
A flicker of mystery within her eyes.

Oh, barista with the enigmatic core,
What secrets lie behind that guarded door?
What tales unfold within your soul,
Hidden beneath that stoic control?