The old red wall is dressed in stems of woodIn wintertime, we see the ancient bricks.
But in the springtime come the flower buds.
And we see no more of Jack Frost and his tricks.
Which vision is the true one,we may ask
Just as with the faces we each show.
Is there any virtue in that task
For reality’s impossible to know.
Each perspective gives a vision new.
The more we see ,the more we realise.
Other cultures have a different view.
Argument is futile and unwise.
As when and where we stand gives us our view.
I must perceive quite differently from you
How my heart sings 