Colfax Poem

We walk down the street, slowly ambling down picking up trash.
I wonder what the people here think of their street.
It seems..
old,
strange,
scary,
different.
We make assumptions.
We think that the people here are poor, unhappy.
Some must be, but others are happy.
they see the good, the light in the darkness.
A smiling face among the old, rundown houses.
She is happy this thanksgiving.