Your eyes were like pools of India ink,

A suffocating, velvety black,

But your hair was so fair, and your skin so light,

You would think they were blue, from the back


And your eyes are like pools of lily pads,

A bright, flashing, glittering green,

But your hair is black and your skin so dark

And when you turn around, it's such a startling thing


And my eyes, I suppose, are pools of chocolate,

So dark and bitter and rich

And you used to say they were like doe eyes

And you say they are like burning pitch

The End

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