I am not sure who first said
that the eyes are windows to the soul
but it must be true
because yours are every bit
as amber as your heart.
They are also every bit as tired.
Forever a mystery,
Greedy souls slinking in.
Sticky fingers
Leaving the best of us
Grasping for straws
Begging for thread.
Take it all
Leave a shell
Somehow they’re still good and well.