It was among the sunset that our eyes met,
I had expected a cold blue or the green of leaves,
But instead, all that returned my glance
Was all the same as what I was used to,
A brown; not fierce nor bland nor bold,
But strange, in a sense, that it was so normal
Yet so compelling.

It has been twenty years
Since last those eyes met mine
And I often wonder
If the ghost in my shell
Might ever see
The sunset again;

Without your eyes to distract me.