Poems of Love and Suffering

XXIII

eyes,
the mirror of the soul,
they who have seen it all,
they, who saw you growing old with me,
you, who now might see wrinkles and grey hair,
to my eyes you still have those silky black hair of yours,
that smile who made me fall in love a thousand times,
and those beautiful icy eyes, where I get lost everytime I look in it.
We might be 80, 90 or 100 years old,
but I'll never stop seeing the boy who made me realize love is worth fighting for,
who made me realize that being loved is the most fulfilling thing,
and made me realize that it was worth living this life.