No, I do not hate Hermione Granger.
The love of my love just brings a sharp ache.
I wept for the loss in my teen-aged brain.
How I wish I'd lived to grow past this pain.

Alas I'm gone, in a sweep of the claws.
My legacy no more than a forgotten flame.
I had so much to offer, so much to give
but I suppose not all tales end in a grin.

Was busy chasing waterfalls
Got caught up in it all
Until I looked up and saw
The extravagant brown;
In other eyes never found.

I looked into your eyes and I knew
That to you I could not lie,
Nor ever deceive you,
Will never let you go but
Will never let you get too close.

you are the reason I sit and pause at brown eyes
make my stomach swoop when they look softly
gazing beyond the soul that inhabits my body
letting me rot in disappointment
for they are not your eyes

She has brown eyes.
Amber and tired.
Flecked with gold
And cautious ambition.
They pass over you a moment,
Before getting lost once again
In her own shrouded world.
You hold that gaze
After it has since long past
Wondering what she thought,
What she saw,
If anything.
Are you to her a muse,
A distraction of the mundane?
Or simply backdrop,
Immersed within the bustling
Yet uninspiring scene?
She has brown eyes,
And she sees right through you.
But can you see into hers?
As you ponder about,
You catch her eyes,
Gleaming yet dilute
Within the sunlight,
Caught just right
Within the honey rays.
And that’s when you notice,
That her eyes are also green.