My Green Eyes

Apparently, only 2% of the population has green eyes.
Apparently, only 10-12% of the population is left-handed.
Apparently, only 10.6% of the population has premature grey hair.

I have green eyes.
I am left-handed.
I have premature grey hair.

I have been told that my eyes are beautiful.
Looking at some of my pictures, I can’t help but agree.
At a certain angle, they hold a bold look.
At another, they look romantic, intimate.

A deep green, resembling forests during spring dawn.
Every wisp of the pupil cuts like a well-whet sword.
A forceful battering ram, finding every detail about you:
Spring’s far-reaching Excalibur.

If blue is the king of irises,
Green must be George Washington.
If hazel changes itself to please others,
Green must be the scalpel of truth.

Surgically bringing out honesty
When I am meant to be lied to,
My eyes antithesize my personality.
I must harness my eyes
As a rancher harnesses his bulls.

My great-grandmother was from the Green Isle,
My great-grandfather from Saskatchewan forests.
I’ve lived to see them, yet no one in my family
Has the verdant vitality of eyes like mine.

How non-sequitur.

But I still prefer other colors to mine.
Although I somewhat find
My eyes to be fine, I’d much rather have
A wife with darker eyes.

As light is to dark,
As sharp is to soft,
As hot is to cold,
As good is to evil,
Contrast brings balance,
Beneficial balance.

Summer and Winter are opposites,
As are Spring and Autumn.
When my green eyes glance through Summer’s blonde hair,
Attaching itself to change, my glance falls
On to dissimilarity, making me smile.

I am an odd man, that’s for sure.
My eyes represent Spring.
My birthdate is in the Summer.
My mind represents Autumn.
My birthplace is known for Winter.

My four seasons make me impartial.
My parts are seasoned for acceptance.
That is why my eyes show a quarter of the story.
That is why my eyes antithesize my personality.

If only you could see the world through my eyes,
My green eyes.

By: Devon Boonie