Bright Green Eyes

Cold and cigarette sick,

I’m sitting on the ground.

Looking up into a misty window

with tears streaking down our faces.

My sister would look back at me

with tears in her

bright green eyes.

I suppose she’ll be remembering the tears in my

bright hazel eyes.

I’m remembering when he told me about Europe and

Being a young soldier.

And marrying my Grandma for sixty years.

His bright green eyes,

laughing at my expense

while making me laugh.

I supposed I’d never see you again

But then I saw you

In my Aunt’s

bright hazel eyes.