I like her eyes. Her gentle glanceLight brown, warm, and sparkledWith a lingering urge to cry FocusedWhen she embroiders peoniesWith silk threads on her scarf I like only her eyes. Not her lips, her tongue,Her pearl-like teeth when she speaksAnd demands an answer A canny antique dealerBrings me rings, lockets, broochesBut I want her eyes … Continue reading Doomed, Overwhelmed Love