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Your Eyes Loved Me


Your Eyes Loved Me

Now, I see sage eyes speak, voiceless, clear.

Your eyes reflect the escapade and I want to ride beside you in a dream on Marsalis.

You, august, on the bed I dare not touch, watching the light, laughing, fussing,

our fabulous fussing...

Your pernickety gaze chides, eyes rolling “go on child,”

then our eyes sync— and your eyes loved me.

Always your eyes loved me Moma, always.

 
 
 

1 Comment


Doris
Aug 08

This title really struck a chord with me. It brought back a memory of when I was younger, maybe around ten years old, and my grandfather was teaching me how to play chess. He wasn't a man of many words, but he had these incredibly expressive eyes. When I finally managed to trap his king after weeks of trying, his eyes lit up with this mixture of pride and amusement https://www.financialcounsellingaustralia.org.au/ It wasn't just a smile; it was a whole conversation happening in his gaze. He didn't need to say "good job"; his eyes said it all. It made me realize how much we communicate non-verbally, and how powerful that can be. It’s amazing how a simple look can convey…


goldenlady

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