Isn't it strange how, not so very long ago it seems,
I could look in your eyes and wish to dive into them -
to swim in those deep black pools in which I saw love
or more recently, sadness.
But today, though indeed your green eyes grew no shallower -
in fact, may have grown deeper, in light of that which I am soon to recount -
I could gaze clearly down through those ever-dark pupils,
with the water unclouded by thrills or enticement.
How odd it was! surely, to find myself loving - in truth,
not in fantasy - who you always have been.
It was you, my dear friend, I delighted to see.
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