On the lakes
by Elizabeth Challinor
The earth is made of layers
So are we
Tears welling up in the inner core
May never reach the crust
Before you judge
Ask, what do I know to be true?
You don't know a tree by its fruits
Nor a person by the company they keep
Though we are all mirrors unto each other
The waves on the lakes distort our view
Thanks to PiBerb for the image