Eyes

I find it hard to ignore your eyes;
The flowers.
Even when they're icy
I want to feel their chill on my tongue
Because I think my warmth
Will melt them again into the sea.

Bring me your bouquets
So I can be their vase.
Bring me your clay pots
So I can fill them with soil:
You'll plant seeds,
I'll be the sun,
You'll bring the rain,
I'll be the air,
And we'll birth a field
That will run
Endless blue and gold and green
Into rivers
Where the wildest things will grow.
And it will begin
With our eyes;
Yours water,
Mine earth.

(image on this page: Stephen Shadrach)