Mirror Tears

My eyes don’t drip of red lusting rose tips-

Crossing the gardens of thorns,

Each weeping lover left to mourn.

My eyes don’t flood of clover green life buds-

Swallowing the everglades and forests around,

Crossing each path, eyes on the ground.

My eyes don’t bathe in the white glinting faith-

Converting the blessing around the world,

To the sins of the underworld.

My eyes don’t bleach in sunspotted yellow beach-

Adventure in the soothing sea,

Or the humming joys of a humble bee.

My eyes don’t soak in the alluring purple smoke-

Of majesty and mystery of before ,

From the voices left and called for.

My eyes don’t drown in the simmering orange of abandoned towns-

Lingering places and lives so familiar,

With people passing, hands a shiver.

My eyes don't sleep in the black of existential deep-

Questions and rallies left unbalanced,

Rest of the hopes, silenced.

My eyes don’t squander in the blue blanket yonders-

Where sky and sea and sheets become one,

Your smile, my only sun.

My eyes do cry in the mirrors of sighs-

The busting of all these colors insanity,

Residing in the eyes of humanity.