The scent oview
Right ever just the sento view would make the blind
Holler as if they were seeing The Vitruvian Man’s image with a staggering set of breasts
Or purr like as a blind cat
Literally giving left paws plural over and over for cups of froth milk
They sent off you to war but the smell did hang
They shan’t forget not
How birds would literally fly into the window just to try and get a young sniff
Of what’s beyond the pane
Obviously once they did their beak would curl forth; albeit not with displeasure and instead with joy of it
Life since had had fewer questions and even lesser answers
If the centre view would return to focus
It would be a Saviour’s Day alright