Pools Poem by Rachael Swiss

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul
And so I paint yours pale
And vast
And blue as tiny slivers of beach glass
Like we collect when we walk along the water
Sometimes
In winter
When it snows
And the wind whips through your hair
It whistles like straw
Micro-brewed blonde
Ale without ailments
Snowflakes land on mittens and melt
Tiny water droplets collect on brightly-colored wool
And you smile
And you shiver
And all times can be good times when all times feel like
Sometimes
Like these times
When you laugh
How it echoes in my ears
Like chimes
Signaling the coming
Soft spring breezes and sundresses
And your pale blue eyes look into mine
And just like that
You melt glaciers.