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Eye Contact

Some said he had those scary eyes,
unnerving, somehow seeming to look
clear through, capable of seeing the
truth – of you.  They didn’t stare at
you, just sort of found you and held
you in an eerie embrace.  There was
a glint to the eyes, a sharpness to
the edges, a weary, and wary, wiliness.
And yet, they drew you in, these cold
and smoldering, blue-gray questioners
of all they see.  Tight lines rimmed the
edges of the pools, white tipped lashes
fanning and refocusing the laser looks.
And then they smiled, as if something
had just reminded them of a pleasing
sight, a soft sunrise rose across his face,
a gentle fox to kit wink, an unguarded
moment on the parapet of life.

John G. Lawless
For PD"S A poem you have not entered in a contest #12 poetry contest



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