What color is my mind’s eye?
Does it match the two green orbs set in their sockets to gather and compress the world down into a space the size of a round melon?
Does it blink? Obviously yes: I walk into a room, stop, wonder:
“Why am I in here?”
Le Anne likes the cozy retreat afforded by a blustery winter day, no excuse needed to spend its entirety putting thought to paper. Even the dove is snuggled in the straw under the azalea bush, eyes closed. No, slightly open…no, closed…