The sun falls,
And night begins,
Blue irises enthrall,
The eyes of my kin.
I never shared that ocean,
I was always miles behind,
always reachin',
never could unwind.
My eyes of grass,
On a summer's day,
I could never get past,
never wanting to stay.
The blue of a mother,
soft on the edges,
never a bother,
never sour like lemon wedges.
The green of a father,
sharp, present, there,
never light like a feather,
Yet always around to care.
Maybe those eyes so sharp,
could soften,
like a tune on the strings of a harp,
that gets played often.
Maybe my eyes of grass,
are more like mighty trees,
the wood of a mighty mast,
pushing forward on the sea.