Eyes are a window,
a stained glass window,
each one completely unique:
the colors and patterns
each arranged differently from a neighbor’s,
the windows of most are whole.
Something happened to my window,
a blow to the head
sent fractures through the glass,
another shattered it to pieces.
It used to bother me,
having only fragments
of the normal world.
Then lost within my world of darkness,
An idea, a hope
began to draw me from the depths.
I faced the light
and rotated the shards of glass,
creating a new world,
one that’s different every turn.
Comments about this poem (*Kaleidoscope Eyes by Jane Meyer )
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