Swasti Jain
See,
Brown eyes are natural mascara,
Coffee from the people that make them
Cocoa from the countrysides that sell them.
Molten honey straight from the gods,
Chocolate flavored ambrosia,
Amber-colored crystal drops,
To her mind, heart, and soul.
The lines on my face get too rusty
To hold the truth, as
I realize, brown eyes, are
Cuckoo bird singing, nightingale chirping
And a house sparrow, so pretty yet
Slowly disappearing into humanity.
Brown eyes are disintegrating, collapsing universe,
Like the bricks of my childhood home
Melted caramel, flowing out the terra cotta bowl.
The tan my skin gets sometimes matches,
The eyes I wish I had.
The chestnut soothing,
The warm roasted hot July,
The mahogany tawny
Eyes.
The eyes, a gateway to a tint of woods
With fierceness enveloped
With an arcane fervor.
The dust dangling in the air with sunshine,
The warmth of color palettes,
Burnt sienna to hazel,
In my bronze-colored hands.
Brown eyes are the sherry,
I drink rather slowly.