In the alley your eyes look out of a dumpster at me.
Your eyes look deep into my soul
and they ask more of me
than I can give.
Your eyes asks for love,
overflow with tears of sorrow,
hunger and despair
without a single sound.
Those eyes still had to see
the beauty of life
but now they only see the dark side,
the filth and the back alleys.
You eyes scavenge for food
and they are back into your face,
are skeleton eyes,
hollow eyes like from a ghost of the past.
Your eyes beg at me
for forgiveness for the mistakes
of the whole world.
You eyes make me feel
as if I am full of iniquity
where my soul lays bare in front of them.
They burrow into me
when your are begging
and asking for some compassion.
I want to turn my eyes away
and walk away and forget
that I have seen you,
with your pale street face,
your tattered washed-out clothes,
your sunburnt skin
but you make an impression on my soul
when you look at me
with those dark pools.
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Comments about this poem (Your Eyes by Daleen Enslinstrydom )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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William Ernest Henley
(1849 - 1902)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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