The Eyes of Poetry
Lo! Your eyes peek…
through me and its glow engulfs weary soul,
not diversifying the moral, of my being
but instead guiding me to understand the essence
of time, the truest meaning of my existence
that I’m seeing more of life, than death now, ‘cos new breathe
of hope commands the air, bringing into me good tidings…
Just like you said,
“What’s mine is mine,” your vision
of my recreation---I see, as clear
as the eyes of your poetry, peeking through me!
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
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