Eyes, brown eyes.
I stare at her
And she at me:
Her eyes first
Round, then deep;
So round,
They lead her
Thin face by minutes
Dreamt of,
Ticked off
Counting sheep.

Eyes, brown eyes,
She spies with
Cutting eyes
Through the crowd
Dragged with her
Lines of grace;
Shouting to the top
Of her soulful trance --
A mystery drawn
In her cheeks.

Eyes, full eyes,
Involved with
So much hair
Soft brown
To touch,
I felt my
Stomach drop
As hers was not
The normal
Touch, but
Cool and soft
Like snowflakes
Drifting aimless
On your
Skin; top
Off as we
Went in.

Eyes, those eyes,
Deep brown and
Scared too full,
They haunted
My open mind; I
Smelled her
On pillows, saw
Her on campus --
Full of terror, my
Skin awake
For weeks
After I was left,
Too good - so told -
To keep that touch,
Her soft light
Cool touch
No judgment,
No time,
No brown
Eyeful brow.

rjw, 6/21/96

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