From Where I Sit

From where I sit, I don’t see much –

I struggle to peer over grounded views.

I’m vertically challenged for sure; as such,

a limited horizon is mine to peruse.

Skewed perception, bias in sense,

falls to my part as I ponder my lot,

erroneous judgements within and without

 force me to fly, to avoid my blind spot.

Some Would Say

Some would say your clothing’s odd, it clashes in its hue;

Others think your garments loud, and cringe at sight of you.

Others still go to great lengths to deny affinity there,

While those who know you least of all will often stop and stare.

But they don’t see, past ruffled cloth, the beauty of your heart,

Or notice with their blunted sense the qualities  apart

From which your worth is lost in sundry traits which can’t be seen,

But felt with soul and mind and gentle spirit in between.