LOVE Poem: WHEELS DOWN, by Donna Harlan

My eyes roam looking for a landing zone,
a tarmac on which to brake and stop,
somewhere worthy of deplaning,
and then I see your eyes, and the flight is over.

So many places to visit, to see, to be,
but none as alluring as the indigo ocean of an iris,
as captivating as the charcoal lava of the uvea,
as perfect as the emerald gem of an eye.

The backlit gaze of an honest soul rises and sets
with more splendor than the heavens.
No excuse for not going there.