They always hit me,
like frothy waves in the ocean,
growing in strength; a hot, salty blue,
enveloping me in its wake.
Like fine crystal, the clearest, most pure,
a divine glamour, cutting deep to the soul,
each speck: grey, green, brown, blue,
as if crafted by God's own hand.
It mesmerizes, shouts to me, calls;
they say nature's color is green,
but blue rings from the mountain tops, from waters below,
and it settles in their gaze.
Blue eyes always seem to trap me. The curse of my father, the quest for blue eyed wonder.
