It's the eyes that get me every time . . . blue, brown, hazel or green it really doesn't matter . . . some say the eyes are the windows to the soul . . . it makes me wonder what he is thinking, what are his deepest thoughts . . . are they of me, or of something else entirely . . . they somehow entice you, beckon you to engage in conversation . . . hopefully leading to . . .

This poem says it all . . .

His Eyes . . .
what they do to me;
A color I can't quite say,
A feeling indescribable,
Whenever I look his way.
His Eyes . . . .
what they say to me;
A childlike quality,
That puts a smile upon my face.
Every time I look at them
They make my heart race.
His Eyes . . .
what they long for;
A loving feeling,
so intense,
When I look into them.
It is a feeling my heart can sense.
His Eyes . . .

What they desire;
To give himself completely
Body, Mind, Heart and Soul,
And in return to have
These given to him;
Truly, Deeply, Willingly
for him to call his own.
His Eyes . . .
How they make me want him;
In every possible way.
To talk to him,
to touch him,
To lust for him,
to make love to him,
To know all of him inside and out,
To share our laughter without a doubt.
His Eyes . . .
What a wondrous thing;
I feel special he chose me
To see his eyes
The way they were meant to be.