Sapphireless
They say her eyes are blue as precious stones,
though in her eyes I see no sapphires set;
for sapphires have a beauty of their own,
but that is not the beauty I have met.
Or else they say her eyes are blue like pools,
drowning sailors in their crystal depths;
but it would be a folly to be fooled,
for ocean’s blue is just what it reflects.
It is only when I look with half-closed eye,
and see her lying there, just out of sight –
touching but untouching as we lie –
that I can see her colour, clear and bright.
And all along I guess I always knew
how best I could describe her eyes: so blue.
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