the crescent brown that rests in his blue eyes,
holds a special kind of light;
This knowledge he holds,
from the struggles he has overcome,
he sees all the darkness the light has to offer,
The possibility that love can cut you open,
yet sees the good every time
those blue eyes have a darkness, specks,
you can hardly notice
only if you are able to look close enough;
The brown around your iris,
I will always admire,
Always and forever proud to call you mine
✨refurbished poem✨