A Parisian Lane

The lace curtain parts
and there you see her silhouette
she is beautiful
like a princess from a fairy tale
and you stare up at her from the cobble stone street
remembering every detail of her and the house
the crooked shutter and the broken slat
as she looks out the window
her features so soft and delicate
you smell her sweet perfume mixed with the scent of the
small bakery down the lane
you wonder who she is
and just as she appeared she is gone again
disappearing back into the abyss
only to appear again every day in your dreams
as you ride you bike again down this road
hoping some day she will be standing there again.

AmyMarie