little garden

A square wall of housings lining up that remote street, long, away, calm, lost, not tall, one storey high, on the shade of that one on the left a little garden with no fence, frail flowers delimit the small patch of lawn, a round little table in the center stood up, not wonderful, not pretty, but there, unique, solitary on the side of that long straight road, i knock on the window pane and swiftly the shadow of a face appears behind the glass, "me and my friend we've got tea and biscuits, will you let us enjoy the sight from your little garden, will you tell us your stories while we will tell you ours, share a snack and the weather with us on your little garden"