Often people laugh when I say my eyes are Hazel, but that's the ugly truth.

In certain lights they're green, like a swamp you could get lost in.

Other times they're brown, like a tree so high you thought you could see the whole world from the top.

And rarely, in moments unexplained and uncoerced, they're golden like the memories of love.

Soon they fill with tears, till you can't see the color anymore.

The eyes get wiped clean, and so does our slate. We move on in our life, and try to change our fate.

One day we will find, for all our days longsuffering, the one who sees.

The truth behind our eyes.