Perspective

She sits in the garden Blooming and bursting Under a flowered arbor Weeping over a single wilted rose

He sits in a room of white Pure and perfect Empty eyes staring close-range At a lonely black smudge

We look at our lives At the portion we've lived And ignore the coming joy Only able to see the sorrow

If we lift our eyes There's reason to smile If we back away from the wall ahead We see how to walk around it