Fire Upon The Platform

What propels a woman

Bent by decades of neglect and scorn,

Years of unbearable debts,

Refractory children grew up,

To get suddenly lit by love

For a stranger who upon a busy platform

Met her with a half-smile of despondency,

And when caught, resolutely departs with him 

All the uncertainty over her head?

Is it she or he who discovered the primal fire 

Quietly burning, perennially upon the busy platform?