I Am Trying to Remember Her Eyes

I am trying to remember her eyes.
I am trying to explain to you her eyes.
What they looked like.
What I saw them look like.

They were brown. That's indisputable.
But what was held in them,
the rays streaming through
the stained glass,
how to describe that.

Unscarred. Like she’d never
been thrashed. Eager. Not
unintelligent. Dog paddling eyes,
unaware how they're not that far above water.
Certainly not pensive, not hiding
any thought. Almost never manipulative
and unskilled when trying to be.

Orioles.
Convex eyes.
Her sorrow was amusing,
the tears, the pout,
the sorrow of a girl who’d dropped
both scoops of her ice cream cone.

I remember her eyes.
I am trying to describe them
to you. I am trying to describe them
to myself. I remember her eyes.
I want to keep remembering them.