Changing Colors

Among the peeling paints,
Past the spot scattered streets.
To the left of the buildings gray and old,
Too run down to be sold.
Behind the places unwelcome and cold,
Hides something secret and sweet.

A dress of bubblegum pink,
With hair of long golden braids,
Innocent and make-believe,
So tiny, curious and naïve,
A free spirit this place cannot conceive.
Here is where the loneliness fades.

Here is where we’re able to see,
Beauty taken over with such a strong guarantee,
Of better things to come, and misery’s flee.
Here is where the change begins.