There’s something about a woman’s eyes
That photograph moments in her life
Captured each and every moment,
Good and bad,
In frozen, infinite images—
Intimate soliloquies spoken to no one in particular
But for the world to hear;
Intricately stitched within the patchwork of her quilt.
And if you look close enough,
Deeper and deeper into her eyes,
In a moment where she wants you the most,
You can see them flicker within her irises.
They may not seem to make sense at first
They may be random scenes on the film reel
But if you’re lucky enough
She’ll let you spend your entire lifetime
Not only resewing the fabric of her life
But weaving a whole new tapestry together.