MORNING STREET

Early morning breaks
on a narrow old street
with lines that mark the time
and the laughs heard down below
for five hundred years or so
the bronze morning light
touches the darkened stone
that stares right back at me
like the face of an old man
who has been there before
and who now laughs about it
his figure gliding across
the uneven cobblestones in
a clanking sound above the
city hum hushed in slumber
still, before the soliloquy swells
to harmony in the pounce
of noisy sunlight.
BP - Paris