The way you see me,
like a mother looking at her child’s eyes,
for the first time underneath heather coloured morning skies.
Like the ocean that delves deep into the hearts of the sands,
drawing with it every grain it can grasp on to like it’s a final goodbye.

The way you see me,
like a lonely Bedouin peering into the eyes of a desert moon,
seeking a path to the lands of the green mountain.
Like an old forgotten road through the woods,
keenly waiting for the sound of a footstep that once treaded.

The way you see me,
like an aged Indian searching for her lost history in the blue mountains,
reading every fallen leaf with the unbeatable dedication of death.
Like the neon lights of a decadent city,
hopelessly waiting for the revival of its former glories.

The way you see me,
a way devoid of prejudice or judgement, with a power of sight reserved only for the gods.
A way that sings to my soul a lullaby of childhood, buried deep underneath the miseries of life.
The way you see me, a way only you can see, brings forth my salvation.