Mud Brown

I used to say I didn’t like brown eyes.

They were too boring

or dirty

or lame. 

I preferred green or blue --- anything

but dirt.

Your eyes intrigued me.

The color of your eyes,

Not too far from the dirt I used to hate,

They’re lined with a fine line of dark disgust or excitement.

I could never tell which.

They twinkle when you laugh

Like the sun shining off of fresh mud after the three-day storm that is

your life.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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