My hair hangs over my face
Like the shadows of a tree
Across a soft field.
There is a stream from a waterfall
Flowing with fresh water
Like the words from my mouth.
The banks on either side of the stream
Are like my lips.
The brown birds are like my eyes.
And in the center of it all
Is the hill like my nose.
Speckled with flowers like freckles.
Those flowers that spread
Like the many imperfections of my face.
