Saturday, 20 June 2009

Her eyes...

"She's got eyes of the bluest skies
As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes
And see an ounce of pain"

Her eyes were capable of weaving a yarn.
They could allure, captivate and charm.
They could induce, seduce and command.

Her whites were spotless. The irises, a chocolatey brown.

The eyes were deep set. Or rather, they looked deep set due to the highly prominent facial features that sorrounded them. And as if to compensate for that apparent relegation to the background, they'd developed the power to move mountains with just a glance.

Her eyes almost always had a glint in them. It was as if they beheld everything that they glanced upon rather than just seeing them.

Akin to Iris (the Greek Goddess of the Rainbow and the messenger of the gods if I remember my Greek Tales correctly) the divine light in her eyes could communicate what she felt...

They would light up with happiness, glimmer with excitement, burn red with anger and glow pink when she was playing the role of a temptress.
They'd display a fresh green hue when she spoke of mountains, turn a dreamy blue when she wished for it to rain and sparkle with the pied brilliance of a kaleidoscope when she'd to do something naughty.
They'd turn a wee bit lachrymose when it was time to part after our intermittent romantic run-ins and they'd shed a painful tear when she was wronged.

Her eyes had this way of looking at me, like as if I were a helpless little puppy lying on the road, cold and in need of her love.
They would look at me with the promise of tomorrow. They would gently gesture towards the turn to be taken on that fork in the road.

Her eyes had the power of lifting my spirits up and high... until she shut them on me...

"She's got eyes of the brightest skies
As if they could kill my pain
I'd love to look into those eyes
And see them make it rain"

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