Eyes of Love, by Nicholas

The eyes of my love are blue. A pale blue. The soft blue of a summer morning sky gently waking.

They are sleepy eyes saying good morning.

Sometimes, they are smiling eyes greeting me after I’ve been away.

Sometimes, they are eyes focused on a crossword puzzle, brow furrowed. What’s a three-letter word for love, he calls out. You, I say.

Sometimes, those eyes are more gray with frustration, especially with a computer connection that just won’t work.

Other times, those eyes glare with annoyance or anger at something I did or said. We have a rule in our house: it’s OK to get mad but it is not OK to stay mad. Then we look into each other’s eyes and say I’m sorry.

There have been times when those eyes were dull and downcast and in pain while recovering from illness or a difficult surgery. Gradually, I watched the sparkle come back to those eyes.

A few times, tears have swollen up out of those eyes like the day we both blubbered through our wedding vows.

Sometimes, those eyes look up in surprise catching me just looking at him. What, he says. Oh, nothing, I say.

My favorite, of course, is when those eyes flash with desire and we tumble into one another’s arms and hold on to each other.

The eyes of my love are a pale blue. The eyes I hope to always be in.

© 18 June 2017

About the Author

Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.