In the Dot of the day
Just how many pixels
Do we see
A paint by number world
Somehow bringing it
All into a cohesive picture
The special photographs
Instantly ingrained
Stored away for recall
In old age
Our mind’s eye
Never minds
What we don’t choose to see
Half lived
Or a full world
Fills the iris with reflection
In the dot of the day
We connect the dots
Drawing in our own conclusions
