Your Eyes

“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“Your eyes,” he said.
She smiled. “But why, you’ve already seen them.”
“I want to be sure to remember them,” he replied, continuing to watch as her expression changed. “You can tell a lot about a person by watching their eyes.”
She lifted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” Her tone was serious, a hint of teasing playing at the edges. 
“Of course,” he said, equally serious, the soft smile tempering his words. “Bright blue like the summer, warm brown like the fur of a doe, stormy grey like the sea… Eyes are beautiful. I think it’ll take some time before I really know yours. But I can’t wait.”
She laughed, a sound like the sparkle of sunlight. “Now you’re teasing me!”
He chuckled, never once taking his eyes off of her. “I would never.” He reached out, gently placing his hand on her cheek. “I’ve seen you, but there is so much more to see. I want to see how the light of the summer sun makes your eyes dance. I want to see them reflect a thousand stars under the night sky. I want to watch your eyes as they look at your favorite things, and how the tears fall from them.”
She was silent, suddenly unsure of how to respond. He continued to hold her, his hand steady and his voice warm.
“Some people have hard eyes,” he continued softly. “You can see the hardship they’ve endured. Others have kind eyes, like a wellspring from the heart. I already love your eyes. But I want to see them in all the shades and seasons of life.”
He pulled her close, his other hand taking hers as their faces paused a hairsbreadth apart. His voice was barely more than a whisper, as though sharing his deepest secret with only her. 
“And more than anything, if I’m watching your eyes, it means I’m still here with you.”