Most said she had brown eyes,
Others said her eyes were hazel,
Some even said her eyes were bronze,
But they were all so wrong.
Her eyes weren’t just brown,
They were a brilliant mix of chestnut and chocolate,
The perfect blend of mystery and magnificence,
They were the windows to her soul.
Her eyes weren’t just hazel,
They were the colour of the very earth,
Like copper against honey,
With flecks of molten gold that glowed amber with pleasure.
Her eyes weren’t just bronze,
They sparkled like a ray of light shining through a raindrop,
A soulful medley of cinnamon and caramel,
Overflowing with fire and joy.
Oh her eyes,
They were alluring and enchanting
They hid treasures I wished to seek,
And I drowned in them every day.
As requested by Grim Reaper, a poem about beautiful eyes.
