Those Eyes Unknown

Those Eyes Unknown

In the station’s crowd,
My eyes hit a face,
Appeared good,
Till a second glance.
Not something to wait upon.

I lost the face, to face it again,
Inside the train.
Didn’t realise it was the same,
For I just met the eyes.
Mesmerising,
I kept gazing on.

At a distance they were,
The face was hidden,
But those two.
They weren’t looking my way,
But I couldn’t help.
The hidden face seemed handsome,
Just for the tranquil eyes.
And thus…
My observations went on and on.

A little bit swollen, a little elongated,
An odd combination, but so perfectly balanced.
Shaped like canoes with pupils mounted,
Which were half hidden behind heavy, fleshy lids,
As if hanging down from them.
The sleepy canoes looked drunk,
Looked like rowing in a stream of dreams,
Dreams of the future less than the bygone.

Deep and loaded,
Heavy you may call them,
Difficult to decipher,
What all they bore.
Shy when stared at,
Conscious the next moment,
Irritated if you persist,
But with a poise of their own.

Shifting fast wasn’t a trait,
Moved slow, stayed at places,
To make sure of things around.
But not much bothered did they seem,
About anything,
Be it loneliness or the crowd.
Weren’t good as mirrors of soul,
Expressed nothing but stillness and indifference.
Accustomed to this life, they seemed to have grown.

Beautiful eyes, nonetheless!
Beautiful when just rose from sleep,
When closed, seemed pencil-drawn.
The way they looked, was like eyes of girls,
Though they didn’t look like a girl’s,
Had the best of both,
But showed none.
Were either bored of the crowd,
Or were all alone!