Poezja

There are dew drops in your eyes, their green,
that laughs with me that look past all of my masks
that does strange things to me
when your eyes do not waver before mine,
then your tears fall like rain between leaves,
when both joy and pain flow from them,
and I smell gardenias in your hair,
while you let me realize some secrets of love,
when you do tell you about your feelings.