About Me

My photo
The lunatic is on grass

February 2, 2012

Brown Eyes

Thoughts churned in his mind.
He was looking patiently
In her eyes,
When her lips gently ushered
The words of an Ancient Poet.

"How were the odds",
He wondered.
As the wind brushed through her auburn hair,
"To stand here,
by a shimmering yellow light.
Falling from a sky so nigh
In a dark alley,
With her. And her eyes."