Her eyes are like the sunset,
The blue, the amber, gold and pink,
Unsettling my heart, denying me rest,
Filling my mind and making me think.
Raising a strange warmth within my breast:
That fire, those eyes, those moments of heaven,
At each sight the same glorious unrest,
And fresh like dew each morning at seven.
I keep, I hope, her heart with me,
And pray and wait to feel, to see
That fire, those eyes, those moments of heaven.