Eyes

Such pretty eyes.

Lashes batting over, long and curled,

fluttering over those gleaming,

almond shaped gems,

the color of moonlight on the ocean's waves

through a stormy night.

A pity if they could not see,

and could not be seen by all the world.

What a pity, if they were taken.

Such a pity, should they be plucked from their sockets

But lo, perhaps not!

Still a tragedy, is it, should they be cherished?

What if they were kept in a pretty little box,

it's own beauty gone lackluster

in the presence of those big, pretty eyes?

If they were cooed over and pet and kept safe?

Pretty little eyes

in a pretty little box,

loved by an ugly little heart?

Surely then, it would be no horrifying occurrence,

should they be torn away,

from their fragile little spots,

in their fragile little skull?