She folds her apron on the stool
Steam rises from her coffee cup
The bridge arches like a rule
She stirs the sugar right back up
Fog under bridges she don't mind
Winter wraps the canal tight
Diner lights leave trails behind
She serves the night shift appetite
The tram bell cuts through frozen air
She counts the coins inside her jar
Regulars occupy their chair
They know exactly who they are
Her boots are soaked from canal mist
She wipes a smudge from window glass
The cook yells orders gravel-kissed
Grease and grace make moments last
Fog under bridges she don't mind
Winter wraps the canal tight
Diner lights leave trails behind
She serves the night shift appetite
The foghorn moans from westward docks
She counts the hours till the dawn
She refills cup number four
No one asks what she waits for
A tourist snaps a photo quick
Of fog and bridge and diner sign
She doesn't pose doesn't look sick
Just pours the coffee draws the line
Fog under bridges she don't mind
Winter wraps the canal tight
Diner lights leave trails behind
She serves the night shift appetite
Fog under bridges she don't mind
She serves the night shift appetite
