IT'S YOUR EYES

I remember
your hair the copper
of the salt-soaked henna of Al Faw,
your skin the dust
of the sun-staked Llanos Estacados,
your lips a spring
in the parched red canyons of Palo Duro,
your belly a trail
through the sand dune curves of Nebraska.
But it's your eyes -  like deep earth,
heavy with humus, light with clouds,
pulling me in, reflecting me out,
merging us into one look,
one rooted soaring moment
in the long moan of time
together.


© 2003 by Richard W. Todd

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