Hope

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

           That perches in the soul,

     And sings the tune without the words,

            And never stops at all.

       And sweetest in the gale is heard;

           And sore must be the storm

       That could abash the little bird

            That kept so many warm.

       I’ve heard it in the chilliest land

           And on the strangest sea;

            yet, never, in extremity,

            It asked a crumb of me.

Eyes

Her eyes are blue
Yours are brown
Hers represents the ocean
Yours represents the ground
You’ve always hated your eyes
And wished that they were blue
But your eyes have a tint of gold
So rare it must not be true
So yes her eyes are blue
And yes your eyes are brown
But your eyes hold the riches
That are buried in the ground
Her eyes carry storms
And rage like the sea
Your eyes carry earthquakes
That bring mountains to their knees
Maybe her eyes are blue
But your eyes reign queen
Because they hold the purest riches
The world has ever seen