Cornflower Eyes

Piercing pebbles through the glass

Are Morten's eyes not here, alas,

With me to gaze into my own -

Van Gogh's cornflower seeds full blown.

 

Blue as the sky one late summer's eve

That drew my soul, and held it in sleeves

Of promised sleep, his eyes reflect

His own true soul, lest we forget

The pain gone by, the love well known, the joy -

Both now and then - that make his life his own.

 

I think of him when things get rough,

Find comfort in a thought he's shared, just off the cuff,

A song he's sung, the way he can -

A grace from God, though just a man.

 

- Ingerid White