thoughtful eyes
intently regarding themselves in a mirror
drinking all earth and essence from within
enraptured by their own
infinite quiet mystery

smiling eyes
warming the weary the cold stranger
as the sun of a chilly autumn day
beacon of welcome to the tired traveler
shining down from the hills of his homeland

wild fervid eyes
glowing with anticipation
burning proud passion
blind to the shadows which rise to meet them

sad yearning eyes
gazing at the shining woman
sitting in the far corner of a fine restaurant
lingering on her exquisite
intelligent beauty
then turning meekly to peer into an empty wine glass

cruel inhuman eyes
leering cold dagger-point stare
filling the soul with mortal dread
death ruin woe
shall follow the gaze of these unholy embers

anguished tear-stained eyes
weeping a widow's grief
bleeding wounds that trouble the spirit
cloud sweet visions in dreary mists
what could be said to disperse the gloom

tender consoling eyes
a kindly lamp to banish the darkness
caressing reassuringly in gentle whispers
no solitude may enter the shrine
guarded by these sacred jewels

tired eyes
tranquil in their dying luster
staring empty at the ceiling
lingering on nothing and no-one
the eyes of a stranger
lost to this world as they peer dimly into the other

George Chadderdon © 2000