Brown eyes,
Soul as she
Trudges through
These Demi-Ichorous lagoons
Of romantic mire.

Suspened tear-shaped vessels
From which sorrow
Bares down on soul's
Amber gated soil;
And memory,
Upon memory,
Upon memory,
Entrenches her feet.

Time immobile,
Despite vague recollection
Of retrospection.
Rain in anguish endured,
Devoured by these russet shoals,
And yet still remains this marsh-like nostalgia.

Branchless wasteland,
A collection of Earthen mounds
In sienna hue -
Barren in sky's womb

But God save the oak tree!
Hope's ne'er forsaken pillar
Kept a constant distance
Absent the stronghold of grasp.

Some circle of brown-eyed hell
I suppose,
Keeps the satisfaction
Of soul's salvation
Just beyond reach.