The lace curtain parts and there you see her sillouette she is beautiful like a princess from a fairytale and you stare up at her from the cobble stone steet remembering every deatil of her adn 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 mixxed with the scent of the small bakery down the lane you wonder who she is and just as she appeared she is gone again dissappearing 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

A Parisian Lane