2-** Fire

I look into her beautiful brown eyes,
and see a depth of soul revealed.
The brushstrokes of her past, a quiet language.
Sunlight catches the shades of amber,
blinking away secrets of the night.
She wakes and looks into my own—
a simple, jade-green stone in a stream.
And I wonder what she sees when she looks.

I feel her pain as if it were my own.
But the spark in her eyes remains.
A love that lives in a place of quiet sorrow.
It is not for me to know the beginning of the hurt,
only to stand on the mountain with her.
To feel, without judgment, the tears she holds back.
Her soul is a world I am blessed to be a part of.
I see her life, and I feel her worth.

I look at the woman of immense emotions.
So fragile, so soft, so tender.
And yet, so strong, so resilient, so independent.
I watch as specks of gold light up when she smiles,
the flicker of wonder at a simple thing.
The intensity of her stare when she catches me watching.
I see the faint glimmer of who she was,
who she is, who she chooses to be.

My soul is bound to hers.
The spark in her eyes is my reason for living.
I cannot read her thoughts, but I know her heart.
I am on this shore, a constant observer.
I feel her pain, but I see her worth.
My love is a testament to this journey.
And through her eyes, I do not just look.
I live.