
Eyes
Glancing back into the past,
Imagining the future,
Seeing the present moment,
And recording the last.
A sea of blue, a swirl of green,
A depth of dark deep brown,
A misty grey, a cryptic gold;
On the outside that’s what’s seen.
There is more to them, depth in these,
A singular view no other will know.
Mysteries, memories, moments, pleas…
What they want to hide and wish to show.
These one has no right to critique.
What they see is exclusive,
What they sense is more than real;
Each possess their own mystique.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: