A glance up at the eyes with the corners pulled down
A brown made light of by green
Shadowed by worry that I owuld be gone
Like a wary thing firghtened by kindness

In your eyes there is a green outside of peace
Almost gone like a forest just burned
But the constant of the green is made faded by sun
I have to look to make sure it's still there

The weather of eyes is belied by a beard not yet grown
but to which measure will you die of old age?
I once saw an eagle the circled around and again
Glanced up once more to find it gone

If constancy is but an illusion
How long does eternity last?