Windows of the Soul

I draw pictures

of the ocean

in your eyes

and then

go swimming

when the moon

silvers the water

with light songs

of our tomorrows

ever ahead

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Blue eyes are a changeling sky

bolt-clear or clouded with rain

brown eyes reflect the earth

growing old as wood grain

green eyes hold the sea

beautifully insane

grey eyes, steeled by fire

come to powdered ash again