Your eyes,

like verdant fields

gently swaying

to the rhythm,

the oaks whispering

another chorus,

lifting their voices

to a cloudless sky.

To behold them is

to be beheld by

the embrace of forest

- teeming with the life of

the warm sunlight

flowing through

the birdsong,

tickling the leaves.

To have loved them,

To have been seen,

To have cherished,

I have been cherished,

undeservedly.

To have made them weep,

A blossom in decay,

twisting shades of sage

with the tinge of anguish

as the petals fall from

your face -

gracefully resting

about your hands

as you hide

your eyes

from me.

What have I done?

The sea consumes the canopy,

a roar of sea foam agony

collapsing upon the peace.

Cold air sticks to us.

Waves breaking off

the fallen trees,

cling to one

another,

drowning.

Even still.

In your eyes,

I find myself.

Held, beheld, beloved.