Hippy Chick by Soho. Cheers!
Billabong Eyes
Your eyes are a billabong,
deep dark brown as of tee-tree tannins,
where-in everything reflects with brilliant clarity.
As I gaze therein, I startle
at my own reflection,
the animation of my face as we converse.
Is that, I wonder, how you see me?
Is that how I am to others,
the literal translation of reflected light across a retina?
Is that how we all are to one another?
But if I were to touch your billabong surface
ever so gently, feather zephyr photon lightly,
to what depth would the ripples reach?
What sound waves of voice might penetrate?
and to where? and how?
Scooping a handful of billabong water,
finding it limpid in my palm,
tasting rain fresh and tannin dry...
Is this water, this essence of life, this taste,
as much as I can ever know
of the innards of you?
Your eyes are a billabong,
deep dark brown as of tee tree tannins,
and yet a light, bright, crisp-focused presence.
Light-bright-crisp is your mind
that trusts implicitly your senses, your sanity,
wherein everything reflects with brilliant clarity.
And for this I love you,
my friend of billabong eyes.