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Your Eyes

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I look into your face and wonder..
I look into your face–could it be?
It seems the faces are endless that I see.
Of course, there is no face like me.
After 42 years, I’ve grown tired and weary
My eyes are worn and bleary.
I know there are too many faces,
but my eyes won’t rest in their places.
They say the eyes are the windows to our souls.
They move one willingly into the heart’s coals.
However, if one returns the plea from my eyes,
You’ll find they may have died.
This poem is not complete.
the message is not deplete.
For my eyes have seen something new.
They have seen a group like you.
The eyes I say are much like mine,
They also are all but blind.
but in those eyes like mind,
I saw a small window blind.
In those eyes are many holes and
Within those openings I saw your souls.
for the first time ever, my blinds had a crack–
You understood the burden on my back.
I know you’re not my journey’s end.
But, oh my, how comforting your eyes have been.
I wanted you to see just one of a many hole,
and in turn, you comforted my soul
I look into your face and wonder…
I look into your face–could it be?
Are those many faces really endless?
Now I’ll have the will to see-just maybe
There could be one for me.

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