Your memories adorn my eyes
as crow’s feet that come to work
only at nights; the nests are made
as they walk their feet with heavy
steps, perhaps tripping to balance,
causing deeper engraves leaving
behind footsteps while walking
further down the aisle of time.
They seem to focus on my eyes
as I wake to puffed melancholy
bearing down its weight of grief
beyond the stages of which I am
sitting patiently for this darkness
to close me into its embrace.
Eye with Crow's Feet -- Diego Manuel Ridriguez