Through the Glass

Hidden by smouldering eyes

Behind the dust crusted walls

Of a glassed miniature

Where a part of her soul lays sleeping

A dry seabed that once beheld the iris

swimming within a realm

of midnight musk 

Carrying a rainbow of emotions

Telling of perfumed days and sultry nights

 

Those bistre eyes that held him captive

(He thought he saw them open)

And for a moment wondered

If he stared hard enough

Could he bring her back

 

But they were only eyes 

Painted on a label

Guarding  the part of her

She’d left behind

In a crusted glass miniature 

That once beheld all that was love.

Reviews

[Pauline]

Hello J! I was at a flea market in Spain and a man near me was staring long and hard at a very small perfume bottle. Whether he was thinking should he buy it or not or was it a reminder of someone, I really don't know, but I chose to write about the latter.
Hope all is well with you.
Pauline.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

What an interesting way to end the metaphor with that last stanza.
this poem is magic...and reminds me of someone in my life...I could not stare long or hard enough.
"eyes painted on a label" Yeeees!