From the Morning Series: Her Eyes

Each morning your eyes greet me
Like flowers budding to spring.
Your soft lids rise like the curtains
Of a theater,
And I await the performance
Of irises bursting blue
For the sight of a new day.

Your eyes are the stars
That the night forgot to keep,
And I, a thief without apology,
Steal them from the sky,
Accepting no bargain,
Like an ancient queen
Holding on to her crown.  

Sunrise after sunrise
I bury myself in your vision,
And patient like an owl
Welcoming the moon,
I wait for your pupils to dilate
With the promise of my gaze.