I often wonder what kind of eyes I have
Not what kind of shape, or color
Or anything you can see in a mirror
Or anything you can see in yourself
I wonder if I have sad eyes,
The kind with a soft, weak light
Like the kind that makes dust visible in the lazy afternoon
I wonder if I have wise eyes,
Filled with knowledge and a clever gleam,
Or eyes with a mischievous twinkle in their gaze
I wonder if I have the kind of eyes designed to be kissed
Or the eyes that could make someone fall in love with me
I’ve always admired those with interesting eyes
The eyes that tell stories of love, loss, and life
Eyes that don’t just see, but are seen