Winding narrow alley.
Half paved steps and walls.
Friendship, humble people.
Through the dim tunnels.
Doorways on either side.
A happy street merchant stops me.
"Your accents from where?"
Excited children running up and down.
Families and neighbours crowd the entranceway talking.
Youths meet with their fooball colours and loud speakers.
Small palms ease out of tight concrete pots.
Every smile.
Every greeting.
Love and brotherhood shines out of the humble beginnings.
Such a noble thing, to forget how to judge.
It no longer seems as poverty
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