On approach, the sunny beams enveloped an unvarnished door, one born in evergreen forests yonder. My hand raised, fingers tight-tucked, breath catching in my chest, I rapped and rapped again. My heart raced. My brain fizzed. Then, it opened to reveal her sweet sesame eyes; in those orbs I once lived and died. More yet in time, with love, I pray to be reborn. For they are my kindling and crucible; into them this lost phoenix submits. Come flame. Come ash. With a willing heart, I am home to stay.
If heaven is a picture in light, then let it be told in the hues of your brown eyes; from the caramel to the cocoa, they are the place my soul finds nirvana.
He was as soft as his brown eyes were light, as if he was born with cream already added.
Light brown eyes are always so many subtle hues, and I was lucky enough to see all of them in hers.
His eyes were a marriage of light browns and sage greens, and what you saw depended upon the ambient hue.
Her eyes were a light brown, the kind that remind you of trees in brightest summer sun.
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