Oculus

Eyes tell stories. *My very first poem, done in September.

Binoculars,
That Scale the mountains and decipher the clouds,
even when visions are covered in shroud
that watch the leaves jump down to the ground,
and wait until they all come back around

Twins of a Caribbean hue,
that met with his own of green pastures new
That locked themselves with a gaze so tight,
that the pictures behind them were vivid and bright

Clouds,
that released great storms of salt and sorrow
knowing that those emeralds won't see tomorrow
Those crimson floodgates that told the story
of the jewels that shattered for our country's glory
Those copper-plated rockets of war
that made these tropical waters sore

Hallways,
that are now crowded with valleys of age
filled with the memories of fallen sage
But now, these eyes so filled with light
slip ever so slowly,
ever so silently,
into their final night