Flashing from the fathoms scattered across an ancient gallions deck
With a sea-green tint sparkling gold from a ship wreck.
To those that would gaze into these eyes of eight
She turns them on if you’re brave enough to wait.
Green as the pounding surf bleeding bits of gold
With a purity that bores into your soul.
Bathes you with warmth or steely green-stone cold
Beautiful or terrible to behold.
Just depends on your attitude
Too look upon them with gratitude.
Or carelessly dismiss her with worn out platitudes
Be forwarned there are no gray areas in these latitudes.
Green eyes in just two percent of the worlds people
Painted on the iris canvas and tinted from the sepal.
Of Flowers in greens in different hues of the spectrum
A Seductive kalidiscope in greens and golds beckon.
Like the gaze of ancient Egyptian Queens
Her tilting gaze of perfect symetry she beams.
To those with no excuses
In the hours she chooses.
Reminds me of a beautiful Medusa
With eyes as delicate as flowers of anchusa.
Whose gaze is not a prison of stone
Or a sentence to atone.
Beauty like this comes but once a millenium
Gazing into her eyes takes you to Elysium.
She makes you understand why you are a man
Searching you with her green and gold scan.
These green eyes of eight also telling
Sometimes winsome and hurt spelling.
Their grief in crystaline tears that flow
Leaving tracks of pain in liquid woe.
Has seen their share of dissappointment
Through focal points of unwilling acquiescence.
A product of twentyfirst century thoughtlessness
These people with her heart wreckless.
Would at times let her heart turn to stone
These thoughts to herself contemplate alone.
In the gathering gloom
In the darkness of her room.
Looks at herself in the mirror
A glimmer of a smile now becoming clearer.
Tugs at the corners of her thin red lips
“Well who am I to be so glum?” She quips.
This brave Viking heart
Has been with her from the start.
It’s ramparts forged of iron
Like a furnace the flames of passion within burn.
This strange mix of Gold, Iron and the sea
These Eyes of Eight will set you free.
Probably too much for you but enough for me
Just depends if you look or really see.
The woman behind the eyes
An original artifact in no artifical guise.
What you see is what you get
The woman with eyes beset.
With emerals, and pieces of eight
She’ll make your soul vibrate.
To some cosmic symphony in the key of Quasars
Illuminating the heavens with her own savor.
Fire red hair and sea green eyes
From her pictures mesmerizes.
Me from thousands of miles
The Eyes of Eight upon me smile.
Her name is Dorothy
And I am proud to call her my friend.
And I believe every single word I’ve said here
And I could write volumes about her.