Incorrect sometimes
the things we see.
Claws on the
bed room walls,
but branches
in a heavy breeze.
Or a door creek
from a suspected stranger.
Instead a gust of wind
the breath of mother nature.
A house burning
to the ground,
in reality a fireplace,
smoke spouting about.
Disappoint or relief,
in what we see.
So how should
we view the grin
from behind her dripping cheeks?