The girl stares right into me.
Her eyes are the color of the trees
I don't know what she's thinking about
and I don't think I should know.
But every time I look at her
something in me grows.
Indeed the eyes are the windows to the soul.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
The girl stares right into me.
Her eyes are the color of the trees
I don't know what she's thinking about
and I don't think I should know.
But every time I look at her
something in me grows.
Indeed the eyes are the windows to the soul.