Get Your Premium Membership

Brown Eyes

"What color are my eyes?" she asked.
"Brown, Dear," one replied.
"No, No, I think its more of an amber," another argued
"Acually," the third began
"Her eyes are not simply brown or amber. Her eyes are the color of comfort on a long day. They are crisp sunsets sweetened with honey and melted gold. Perhaps, the color of a cool September birthday when the leaves change the world into a canvas. Some would even dare to say that they are a smooth bourbon with cubes of flaxen ice. Her eyes are not brown, they are a symphony."

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.