Angular parking along cobbled streets, trucks as far as the eye can see; and a midnight blue minivan nestled in the mix, belonging to the mysterious hippie-chick; observing for weeks as she sits in lone silence; the stranger with the face slowly coming familiar.
Friendly people acknowledging, as they pass her by, all smiling and wishing her to have a nice day; wondering of her ritual that never waivers; steaming espresso, four cigarettes, seemingly disinterested as she writes in her notebook.
Trying to calm the waters that rush under her bridge, musing as the waiter delivers carafe?s of hot coffee. Little birds chirp, singing for crumbs, unaware that she has none. Breaking from routine she goes back inside, ordering a piece of pumpkin bread, picking the seeds for her self.
Like Snow White in the magical forest, the birds flock, singing just for her. Thirteen gather and eat crumbs at her feet; two on the table, one brave chickadee perched proudly on her knee.
Today was quite different, breaking from routine; embracing the world she found her self in, deciding she might just stay for a spell; laughing out loud, showing traces of her true self, gathering her belongings, she left with a smile?
Original source: http://wordsmithextraordinaire.wordpress.com/?p=3335
