Where would a poem be,
without a readers eyes?
The glowing ***** that lead one to pool of soul.

Where would a poesy be, without inquisitive eyes?
The obe’s that pulsate to expand and explore written word.

Where would a sonnet be,
without eyelets that focus divinely?
The optics that have power to shift words into consciousness.

Where, oh where would a poem be,
without gazing eyes shaped like sun?
The vision seeds, that shine to cast their view upon a dream.