Statues grow their shadows
and pigeons practice grace;
the gardener folds his trowel
as clouds revise the space
Couples walk like sentences
their words half rhyme half air;
the city leans to listen
pretending not to care
A violinist busks there
her case collects the sky;
each coin a wish for someone
who once forgot to try
When twilight burns to copper
and bells begin their flight—
Mont Royal keeps our footsteps
as ink keeps love in light