Soft brown eyes and a shy dark mouth
Voice in a whisper with the sweetest suggestion of a tinkle in it
You sat by me and looked at me with your intent dark eyes
Searching, searching, searching for who I am, what I am, how I am, written in my round smiling face, in my round soft body, in my frank brown eyes
Searching, searching and finding? Finding what?
That I don’t know, sister, but I think you found enough to stay on and try.
Warm brown eyes on my bottomless dark ones,
Head bent forward, body curved in eagerness,
You search in me a companion, a shoulder, an equal in some way,
In my troubled dark mind, infected with sobs, anger and virulent hatred, turning and twisting in spirals,
Searching, searching and finding? Finding what?
That I don’t yet know, sister, but I think you found enough to stay on and smile.
Flashing brown eyes on my bitter dark ones
A sardonic smile curving your purplish lips,
Pointing out what I hateto see, I don’t want to see,
But isn’t that what friends are for? You searched my broken dark eyes for solace, warmth, peace, friendship
Searching, searching and finding? Finding what?
That I don’t know, sister, but I think you found enough to hold on and sigh.
Peaceful brown eyes on my eager dark ones
Sun filtering through your dark neat hair,
Your slight smile, chin on your hand, eyes crinkling in the sheltered grove,
Cars rushing by and leaves rustling in the park as we discuss our future, unknown but hopeful, unifying our companioned timid worry
And peace, peace, only peace predominates
You have found what you wanted, sister. You found in my dark deep eye, a friend.
Someday I will be you.
A bird, or a beaver?
Dark, elusive, filled with passionate love?
Something determined and fragile, little and strong, diligently working away while fluttering from room to room on those light feet tipped with wings?
I look in your sparkling eyes and I learn what it is to love.
I look into them and learn to love my work so much that I am it and it is me and in doing it satisfaction and love keep fear and all destructive thoughts at bay. I learn to be proud in the fact that I can and to let that pride be my pillar.
I learn the art of not breaking when the world is bent on breaking me.
I sit and write this without missing you, for I know you’d rather I do what I set out to than sit here and miss you.
But I look into your eyes and see fear. What do you fear? Are you afraid that dust will collect over rusty feelings
Creeping their way slowly out of our minds? That work or play or time will be the end of us?
Believe me when I say that I have no time or space or words treasured enough to spell out how much you mean to me, how much you made me who I am, how much you are a part of me.
Look into my eyes, sister.
Tick… and aeons later, tock.
And you will still see my love and my respect burning there.
For you redeemed me, sister. You made the sinner, a forgivable human. And but for you, I never would be.

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