Restaurant that existed only in imagination

Just across the street was Montmartre,
a high class restaurant that existed only in imagination, such a long time ago.
People casually strolled by, examining the restaurant with great approval.
The beauty of it all was well, quite harmonious.

Above the restaurant painting fell a stream of stars.
A trail down so far of glowing stars, a trail as far as the eye could see.
Cheryl sat beneath the stars holding up a card for all to see.
Peace was all it said, and then so did she.
She sat in a bucket beside seven others, all grinning, all laughing,
while a rainbow came down below the buckets.

Rayne was not to be forgotten now, a soul upon the checkerboard clouds.
She also swirled, and twirled, and danced in the sky.
While Evelyn watched from her corner, way up high.
Up high she sat on paint droplets of blue, of green, and of gold.
She listened to the song below her and she did just as told,
she let her mind at rest, then she let her dreams run free.

While Mary Jane sang softly of bearing the essence not of a soldier,
above her in the clouds rested Serra, who never stopped believing.
“Life isn’t about finding yourself,” said Tara. “Life is about creating yourself.”
While Larisa would have to agree, she also would say,
That Life isn’t measured by the number of breaths we take,
but by the moments that take our breath away.

Restaurant that existed only in imagination, such a long time ago.