The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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I Wear My Dreams

I wear my dreams
Around my neck,
So hope lies close to me.
Slim silver chain
Holds silver tower,
And tiny silver key.

Tower talks of tales,
In new lands where
Real towers stand tall.
Key holds the secrets
Of mind’s wishes,
And silver chain holds all.


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A Love Affair with Eyes

There’s something about eyes that just captivates me. When a mask is carved and placed expertly over a face to create a void of emotion, eyes are the one things that consistently shine through and show how we really feel, who we truly are. Out of everything in a person, eyes always remain in my mind after the memory of a face has long since faded.

I love eyes of any colour, wide and child-like or small and scrutinising. I love eyes that are seas you could drown in, with hazy flecks of colours swimming through their gentle following colour. I love eyes surrounded by paths of crinkles and wrinkles that tell of a thousand frowns and a thousand smiles. I love eyes with glints of secrets shrouded within, the ghost of stories yet untold hiding and waiting to be discovered. I love eyes that express more than words and a smile ever could; eyes that create a memory so vivid it engrains itself into our very minds. I love the eyes of children, filled with innocent delight and an unending curious gleam. I love the eyes of the older, brimming with tears spilled and frothing with laughter, bright, wise sparks of life in a wrinkled, ageing face. I love how every eye sees the world in a different way, and how no two eyes could ever look the same; eyes who have withheld the beauty of this world and have endured pain and sorrow, eyes that reflect every memory in a kaleidoscope of colour and brightness that I can’t help but fall for each time I look upon them.