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Your Eyes Contain a Village

Amateur writer. On the path of the phrase that says "practice makes perfect." Avid consumer of books that make me think, make me feel.

Your eyes are a waterfall

When you cry.

Your eyes are an oasis

When they dry.

But when you look into mine, I see

That your eyes contain a tiny village.

It has a bakery whose warmth reminds me

Of the reason I fell for you, and a small park

Whose greenness makes me feel so connected

To nature, at home, like an astronaut

Who has finally landed on the moon.

There are also deserted alleys and

Streets whose darkness reflect the way I feel

When you are away, or when I am afraid

That I am not deserving enough to have you.

But mostly, love, the village in your eyes

Hosts hundreds of people whose actions and

Characters display the ups and downs,

The enchantment and the disillusionment

Of you and me.

But, love, if your eyes contain such multitudes,

Then your face, your arms, legs and body

Must contain worlds, galaxies, or a universe.

But maybe I am too small to pertain

To such grandeur. So, for now, darling,

All I see is that

Your eyes contain a village.

© 2017 H Bakerley

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