by EV Lowry
There are these eyes that remind me of lying in the grass on a spring day. Surrounded by trees, I look up as the sunlight shines through the canopy. All the world becomes quiet. The leaves are almost translucent. The greens soften and become tinted with golds. The wind kissing my face, filling me with peace.
There are these eyes that remind me of summer vacation. They are a day at the beach, an evening on a lake, or a warm night sitting around a campfire. It’s not really a location that they invoke, but laughter. They are the warmth of standing under a clear, open sky. They are friendship and possibility.
There are these eyes that remind me of my coffee as I add a little cream. A tiny galaxy swirling in my cup. The aroma filling my nose and waking my senses. The warmth is soothing and encouraging all at the same time. I could sit in silence, just enjoying the moment, but conversation makes it all the sweeter.
There are these eyes that remind me of coral reefs. Serene and yet ever changing with the tides. They are a mix of colors, bright and distinct. The more you look, the more you see. A place to be explored, they are beautiful and full of depth, but fragile. If not handled with care, they disappear.
There are these eyes that remind me of old books tucked away. Through the dust, I can see rich shades of chocolates and ambers. Life has left them a little worn and bent, but there are still stories there worth reading. I could spend hours absorbed in the gold edging, getting lost in their quiet strength.
And finally there are these eyes that remind me of the sky just after twilight. They are a gentle darkness after a harsh day. Filled with contradiction and moonlight, they are both calming and passionate. They are mysterious and yet strangely intimate; both a refuge and a danger to tempting to resist.