There is a forest in my left eye
A hunter and pal in my right eye
On my upper lip near the middle
Is a woman on a couch with
a walker in front of her
In he background in the deep shadow
appears a man peeking over the couch looking at
the woman's back


It is always like that. I get lost in the little pictures hidden in the details
where scenes of life play out intriguingly. Happens with tree bark too outside

The only mirror I know is scenes of life in the fur and in the eyeball