Your eyes are like the mountains.
They paint the rich landscape of my life with the hues of stone greys and smokey blues.
They contrast the pure white of the snow covered mountain sides.
Canyons etched from half frozen streams,
terraces mounted on jagged cliff faces,
thousand foot water falls all dance in the distraction of you in my presence.
A subtle day dream of wondering your eyes,
skating half frozen lakes while clouds kiss your peaks and it's shade caresses all of your edges.
I bare it,
so incredibly jealous of the weather.
The way it touches you,
the way it moves you,
the way your body quakes at its advances.
If I only had the power to move you.
If I had the power to change the way you change the weather.
Pushing storms aside,
casting them away with the vast of your soul,
sometimes holding the timid and mild ones letting them shower you intimately.
If only I could change like the weather.
Instead I find the intricate details of your eyes as the only staple of beauty in my life.
Sometimes I waste the day with only meager glances and other days I force myself to look away.
No reason to stare as these great monuments paint the landscape of my life.
I'll always have another chance to hike the hills,
to swim the lakes,
to drink in all your beauty but if only I could change like the weather.