While loitering Juja’s empty streets,

At a corner where they have their toenails painted,

And their feet massaged,

And their fingernails polished,

I met her.

She, and her father and her mum,

She, smilingly, customarily of her gender,

Gracefully removed her shoes,

Proudly showed off her painted toenails,

And gave me a sweet, infectious smile,

And broke through my melancholy countenance.

Now leisurely strolling towards my house,

I am sheepishly smiling to everyone,

They think I am a lunatic.