Oh, dear 7- Eleven lady, please get me on my way;
giving gentle greeting, before the emotions sway.
Kind words and sustenance, fuel me for the day;
I have to endure so much, as I earn my pay.

With those hours, most will drop where you stood;
as a mysterious truck pulls up, dropping off goods.
As most people sleep, you fully restock the shelves;
stopping all, to tend to the customer's needs yourself.

The lynch pin to the perpetual coffee conveyer;
making gobs of different brews for the purveyor.
You keep working all the beverage machines;
so Slurpee headaches and Big Gulps can be gleaned.

Off at work and late at night you refresh my mood;
I walk out feeling refreshed, my soul now soothed.
You let me see the humor as I complain and brood;
busting out laughing as I say, "With our shifts... we're screwed."

You're the last face I see at the end of the night;
with only a few hours of sleep, my first morning sight.
With a breakfast of Kielbasa, chili, cheese, mustard, onion relish and jalepanos;
you never lecture, also you'll let me know, when a new sandwich shows.

You are kind to those who stop in with a swerve,
being always watching and with a steady nerve.
You are also tolerant to, the people with hard luck;
always hard working as pulling up, is another truck.

Oh, 7-Eleven lady...
What a blessing it is to see you, as I end my day,
and a joy to also have you start my day...