Where did the sun go?
And the love? The laughter?
The clear, azure eyes that she said sparkled
like the Mediterranean
in which you could go for a swim?
“Cataracts” says the doctor.
I call them fish eyes.
No wonder I swam straight into the net.
Forever gone was the big, blue ocean
where you could dream.
I was left on the streets
but enough oxygen.
I am not a fish.
Eyes are the windows to your soul.
Then is my soul coconut jelly?
Wasn’t it the Mediterranean not too long ago?
And waves gently lapped at you
as you swam?