Brown Eyes

At the edge of sumac, sassafras and pine
Shielded by the folio canopies you adore
you nestle barefoot atop the carpet of moss
A simple thing the sun had no part in
Just outside your sanctuaries rim; and the tips of your unfilled fingers
Sway a field of scented samples of all a woman is made of

I am there, among this splendor and all their pampered beauty
Buried but standing head to head with the perfection
As if you were a volcano; they offer themselves to you as a sacrifice
I won't tender such obscenities
I can promise there will be no obstacles to where I stand
In a crowd of beauty; I will stand out not pushed aside

Soothing your pain like a warm bath of liquid satin
Caressing your tired skin with a less than perfect touch.
Let the swirl of warm breezes turn you to the heart of this
haven you have hidden within
At the edge of sumac, sassafras and pine
see the brown eyes . . . I am there.

K. Mulroney