She is sitting on the curb,

Her mom is late again,

But she doesn’t really care.

Her favorite book is open on her lap,

The inspiring words of Jane Austin,

Echoing in her head.

She would make a pretty picture,

Sitting there.

Her hands clasped loosely,

Wearing a black and white stripped shirt,

And a jean jacket,

With a pair of black skinny jeans,

And yellow vans.

Her reddish hair braided loosely,

And her glazed over,

In a different world.

The world of reader,

Entrapped in the black and white,

Dreaming.