The brush slides across my eyelid, painting green and I cannot help the voice I hear: you. “I hope when we have kids they have your eyes.” When the process is complete, I step back. I see the brilliant green shining back, and I see what you meant. But in the depths all I see ...

So just a quick comment regarding this poem of mine because who does not adore a little backstory: These thoughts poured out of my exhausted brain onto the notes in my iPhone after a stellar night. It took around 12 minutes of me relaxing in a bath tub (it was definitely too small for comfort) ...