emerald eyes


I stripped her down, black and bare,

To better see her emerald eyes so rare.

Or maybe to be better seen by them,

Their keen gleam peering like a gem

into the forlorn space where my shadow lies

in wait of her enchanted emerald eyes.


From the depths of a forgotten night,

They call forth my own forsaken light,

that by her grace it may also to me be granted

to see, through emerald eyes, a world enchanted.



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© 2020 by Carsten Sprotte