how iridiscent it is

those eyes, reminding me

of wildflower dreams

how like the pretty bird’s nest

those eyes hover around

body, spirit, soul, those meditative eyes

like evening’s solitude stealthily come into

a terrain, pathway not easy to tread

those eyes, are like creepers stealthily

hanging on to garden walls, clinching steadfastly,

those eyes of mists, moist  in my luminous dreams

I will take these eyes with my sword of  love,

and sing hymns in the evening’s  gaze

to them.