Blog #15

My boy has eyes of seasons,

Who's pigment change is quite sublime

From fall, to winter, to angered spring, 

Contorted by what tomorrow may bring 

Controlled only by space and time 

My boy has eyes of summer,

Burning with passion of love and light 

A pool of radiant, sun-kissed, refreshing joy 

And nights filled with spontaneous deploy, 

A gold aura, mellow and bright 

My boy has eyes of autumn, 

lukewarm hues of grey amongst wind,

A shield of beauty for anyone who stares 

As it keeps them from the colds affairs 

Until the chills have had their end 

My boy has eyes of winter, 

Frozen over with colbalt blue, inside and out 

Unless sure soft safety is near 

Only ice, not one single tear 

A strength for the quiet season, a drought 

My boy has eyes of spring, 

Green at the surface, bright with release 

Where waters poor as defrost begins 

And the threat of violence subtly ends 

Flowers sprouting inside from newfound peace 

My boy has eyes of seasons, 

Whether filled with enthrallment or grief, 

Live as picturesque illustrations 

Of beauties evermore fluctuations, 

Always returning to handsome relief 

My boy has eyes of seasons, 

No matter which day we may come to find, 

His eyes will stay on truth and chivalry, 

Amongst each of his seasons delivery, 

Someday, he may understand mine.