In this land of immigrants
eyes unite
beyond race or creed
and I find
joy and sorrow
deep within.

Eyes surround,
wide, narrow, slanting
deep and bold,
green, brown, hazel
blue or in mixed hues.

All eyes,
they draw me close.

At times though
I gasp, looking at
eyes of a different kind:
cold looks
and racial stares.

But
there's the cowboy
holding me in spell,
mounted on his horse
with twinkling blue eyes,
he's the one
holding my skies.