Hazel Eyes
Aura Thundera
deonii@yahoo.com

***

He stands still, quiet as the night;
In the flickering light of the candles.
The warm golden light caresses him,
Embracing the strong shapings
Of his arms and long, strong legs.
The light glows on his silky hair,
And runs liquid down his velvet shirt.
He turns and looks up,
Showing his eyes.
Those deep hazel pools speak
More eloquently than his lips could.
Sparkling in those dark depths,
Are flecks of gold and emerald dust.
Precious things gleaming softly there;
Beautifully they reflect the flames.
Of the candles that he lit.
And deeper still lies the window
That reveals his heart and soul.
Clearly there is written pain,
Old and deep, never forgotten.
It tightens the corners of his eyes
With its hidden grief.
For he is old now, aging;
Gray is dyed away in his hair.
And he is still beautiful outside.
But a deeper and greater beauty
Lies buried deep in his soul.
For the experiences of his life,
Though sometimes cuttingly cruel,
Have left him with a beautiful soul.
And that inner beauty surfaces
In his deep hazel eyes.
And yet, as he looks up and turns,
Another beauty fills his eyes.
As the brown darkens and gold shines,
Deepening in his passion.
And turning him unbearably handsome.
For he can make love
With a look from his eyes.
There is no need to share his bed
To know the depths of his love.
It is all written in those hazel eyes,
For she who chooses to read.
And when he laughs, the golden glints
Speak of the mischief in his heart.
And those wicked dancing gleams
Share his joy better than words.
In those honey-dark eyes
Flash that deep complexity
That lies within his soul.
And those who want to see
And love the wonder of his heart,
They ache for him, but not his arms;
What they want is the touch of his eyes,
Those burning, flawless, hazel eyes
He uses to communicate all his passion,
And that blaze with his lust.
He uses his eyes to seal his love
For she who looks there.


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