The face on the wall,
At least, the one that I see,
Peering out from the wall,
Looking out at me.
It’s almost like clouds,
When you look and see a face,
Or some sort of creature
On the blue mass we call sky,
Another person may look,
And see a mass of steam, dirt and space.
At any rate,
I see a face on my wall,
It could be a girl,
It could be a cat,
It has long flowing hair,
And that, well … that’s that!
Perhaps I am silly,
Or perhaps I am not,
I see a face,
The eye is a knot.
Yes, my walls are full,
Of knots that cannot hide,
The grain in the wood
And the lines
They all collide.
I see a face,
I see it, I do.
Now I wish for you to look,
Do you see it?
Do you, do you?
I am tempted to photo,
This lovely little face,
And post it on my web page,
And you can be the judge,
Of whether to erase.
I still see a little eyeball,
Staring out at me,
The other seems to be covered,
By strings of hair you see.
Do you see it?
Do you know what I mean?
The little face and little nose
And chin,
So plain to me?