old rose, old square, old city
Cars and buses hunk horns, light wisps of smoke come out of street grilles, it’s cold. Busy people walk back and forth in the rush before the holidays, noises come from construction sites and little orange cones delineate work areas.
In the middle of all this hustle and bustle stands an old little place of peace and quiet, with torches burning around a tiered neoclassical fountain covered in pigeons. Wild roses adorn the little triangular park in front of the City Hall. Flocks of sparrows and pigeons fly low and close to your face, in hopes of a fallen French fry or yummy baked goods.
Old New York smiles under hesitant sunlight, picking up a glitter of a window here, a sparkle of laughter there, still charming as always.
Pink roses embrace the old park benches in the cold of winter, softening the hard edges of concrete and stone and giving a moment of respite to the hurried city dwellers.
Old roses for an old square in an even older city. Roses in winter? Many happy returns…
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