My Eyes

My Eyes I look in the mirror, what do I see, two blue grey eyes, staring back at me. I think of the sights, that they have seen, the oceans they have crossed, places they have been. Around the world a couple of times, climbed up mountains, even seen down a mine. For seventy odd years, they have served me well, but now alas, time on them is beginning to tell. So a pair of specs, now I use, to read the paper, and to watch the news. Tango.