Merry Christmas Eve,
From the fog among the trees.
Lazy haze draped dazedly
Is our California freeze.

Cotton candy swirl of sky
In deep waters meets
A force of power enough to destroy
The strong among the weak.
“Pacific” they do call she-
Beauty and peace men’s hearts adore.
These men, the same whose head and feet
Be led asunder by her roar.

I know not if those eyes are green or blue;
I only know they hold pastures and oceans.
Warm, lush pastures that draw me by their comfort,
In which I sit and speak and soak and rest.
Tossing, swelling oceans where my power
Is forsaken in the never-ceasing waves of beauty.

You claim they boast a tint of gray, but I must disagree
The gray appeared when those eyes began reflecting me.