She's lying down on an old bench in the corner of the yard.
One arm nursing her head, the other fending off the rays of sunlight sliced by the leaves of the tree above.
Her eyes wander, to the old wood of the bench beneath her, frail and rough, somehow supporting her weight. She rests a book beneath her head to add comfort to the skinny planks that hardly do for a pillow.
She rolls over, adjusting the book she began reading but lost concentration on; the cool blue sky above seeming to be far more interesting, next to patches of shadowy-green interlaced with bright sun. Contrasting colours surrounded by a cloudless background, moved by an occasional breeze that rattles the leaves and compels the sky to sing.  
She closes her eyes, reflections of orange-red appearing inside her eyelids; their width barely blocking the summer sunlight, instead allowing it's rays to reach through, singing and dancing and living harmoniously beside her, wrapped around her, easing her into it's peaceful, free lifestyle.
She soon falls asleep, content, protected.