I still carry both names

The color of my eyes,

darkest brown. Almost black, 

but color changes in the sun.  

You might know my nose, but not as well as I do.

Crooked and inexact. I wouldn't have it any other way.

My mouth knows straight lines best, but I promise it

 curls up at the edges often.

My chin frames the edges of my mouth 

along with the perimeter of my lips.

My neck holds up my heavy thinking. 

My hair is the result of one thought. 

I let my hair do what it wants. 

Iris Schiele
Izzy Scherer