His Eyes
I stare into his eyes;
Two pools of sweet, liquid brown,
Deep and intense.
There is a fire therethat no one sees.
No one, that is,
Except for me.
I see it because I have it too,
That fire.
A longing for a time dead and gone,
For only silvery wisps now remain
to grace the stories told to small children
as they sit beside the fire on a black, stormy night.
Sometimes this longing threatens to
overwhelm it's keeper;
Hold fast, love.
But beyond those eyes,
through that fire,
is the place where your
wildest dreams hide,
waiting for you to claim them.
Angels and Demons,
Spirits and magick;
Here they are alive.
The path through the fire is made of song.
We sing together, him and I,
These melodies that come from within,
from a chamber of the heart buried so deep
that people have lost the ability to visit
it's depths anymore.
The lips that sing these forgotten verses...
Red as blood,
Soft as the kisses they hold.
Our hands clasp gently as we step
through our fire;
Then out into the starry night beyond.
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