One Working Eye

It is hard to know.
Is it the fog.
Or the experience of too much age
and experience
that colors, or removes the color
and sees life not quite as it is.

Happy with your vision,
you are content to see
with your one good eye.
Content as color leaks in and out
of your vision.

About this poem.

A poem about seeing with one eye. (one of mine is blind). A poem about how we all see things differently. A poem about seeing what is not there, and about see what is there but not seen by others. As an aside, I have a series of paintings I call “The Color Leaks Out.” Poetry is never about one thing.

The photograph was taken in, yeah, you probably guessed it, Venice.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom