This is not a collection of poems. It's a story that begins with a poem.
🎆
Dove's eyes
She is real, but then she's not.
She's an illusion of some sort.
Her silhoutte is like an Angel's-
of that, I am sure.
She doesn't walk like we do,
'cause she's not human like we are.
She's far too beautiful to be true,
definitely a long way better than good.
Her smile brightens the world-
my world-
like a thousand suns.
Perfection is her name,
in every single way.
But what strikes me most in that flawless face,
are those two orbs of light that seem like an endless maze,
drawing me in to swim in their depths.
Eyes that aren't human's,
for they're too beautiful to be true.
Eyes that speak more than fables-
of a love that's tried and true.
But most of all,
of such indescribable peace,
that it seems to me that She isn't real.
Maybe She's human,
maybe She's not.
But one thing I know for sure,
is that those eyes that speak volumes,
remind me of a symbol of peace-
something we don't see so often,
but brings a smile to my face-
A dove.
*
This is not a collection of poems. It's a story that begins with a poem.