If Eyes Were Truly the Windows into the Soul
If eyes were truly the windows to the soul
Telling and bespeaking of expressions strange, yet demure
Then for the depths and depths of intensiveness they portray,
Sometimes a pair blue like the pools of an endless sea,
Drowning you but not letting you fall.
At times so dark, almost purple
And yet growing darker and darker until it turns midnight.
Come to think of the sparkling emeralds,
Shimmering even in tears,
Singing of a beauty well shown,
Eyes a prize worth winning.
And to the jade pairs, seeming so soft and velvety
And yet so cynical and yet so cold.
And of course, the startling aquamarine,
The vivid blue green combination
Slightly bewitching
Perhaps expressing bewilderment,
Perhaps not,
I don’t care to know.
Oh and not forgetting us simple brown folk
Inexpressive, intelligent, indescribable.
Nothing more there is to say.
And for the oddly coloured pairs,
A wish, a whim I might have not ever,
But mind you, not for want of trying.
Yea, there’s silver, and then grey,
And sometimes I wonder if there might be chestnut,
Likely not, oh definitely not,
For I shall not want to stare into such.
Ah and for those drawing every gaze and holding it,
Causing you to take a second glance and see that it verily is.
I once knew of a lad,
One eye blue, the other green,
That’s what he had.
‘A freak’, they called him ,
‘Spectacular’, I thought of him.
Truly, if eyes were the windows to the soul,
If truly they were.
