One lady steps with careful grace,
A plate of pizza in embrace.
Steam curls above the golden stack,
As warmth and scent trail gently back.
Presgrave Place lies hushed and bare,
No footfalls echo on the air.
The walls lean close in quiet pride,
As if the past still walks beside.
No cars, no haste, no flashing sign,
Just cobbled calm and muted line.
A slice of life, a fleeting scene,
Beneath the sky's soft silver sheen.
Melbourne breathes a borrowed tone,
Its lanes like corners overgrown
From Paris, Rome, or tucked-away
Cafés that hold the light of day.
And here, in hush, with simple cheer,
The lady moves, the food draws near.
A little Europe, close to home—
A lane where wanderers might roam.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2
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