It might be said:
I stared into their eyes,
For the first, distinctive time,
And gaped at the discreet mystery
I stared into their dark eyes,
Opaque as the ever-gloomy pitches of night,
And gaped at the enriched, blooming flower of opportunity
Hidden from the rest of the broad, exposed world.
How could I have possibly known
To unmistakeably build, and mend
The shattered pieces of this young,
Discreet window, alone?
For the eyes of mine,
Brighter than the conspicuous flashes of light,
Of the beaming, incisive rays of the Sun,
Were lead through the eyes of the firm, charming window.
I peered into the placid, enigmatic frame…
Of their violent, sadistic life,
Of shattered, broken pieces of glass,
They were never inclined to reveal without rife.
They said they loved their eyes.