je reste au lit

the roads are red brick
but my feet are skimming the surface of black stone

beside the bench is a tree swaying romantically in the wind
the tree is caged in tiny white lights yet still it moves to the rhythm in the sun

the walls surrounding are red brick
accented with green doors and frames of windows

the street lights breaks the openness of this small place
black iron, with a dull light floating out in the bright of day

small birds glide into the tree
bouncing from brick to brick

small white tables
the aroma of coffee whispers its way to the bench

a girl sitting with her feet just above the black pebbles
writing in tiny note book, staring into the world she sees