Your eyes

your eyes the color of morning coffee the color of an old radio playing sweet melodies the color of my favorite book's cover the deepest oak color of trees in which i breathe breathlessly the brown in the golden sky when the sun is just right the warm cinnamon that is sweet and smooth with the eyes that i could stare like the nighttime sky in June with the voice of my favorite tune but your eyes glisten like a thousand moons or a thousand suns and as beautiful as an old vintage photo your eyes are the key to your soul and i want to stare into them into the end of time like a blackhole sucking me in but I don't ever want to go