Crossroads Park

At a highway crossroads
Leading out of this City
There is a tiny little park
Where maidservants on their off day
go to meet their sweethearts.
Amidst the noise and dust
the fumes of the passing cars
the shrubs and trees
which might have otherwise been beautiful
are coated with thick dust.
Intimacy is brewed and thrives here
every sunny Sunday afternoon,
and one passes by without taking notice
only once in a while an estranged heart such as mine
stops to wonder with admiration
how this love thrives and holds its own
in this noisy, dusty and soulless city of ours.