LONESOME BLUE

Just a whimsical explanation as to why I am 37 and alone

                                    I always choose eyes of blue
                                  Searching the eyes that can hold
                                    My own myriad opulent hue
                                    My own eyes, stormy and bold
                             
                                  Ancient orbs from fathers unknown
                              Transfixed on moonlight ice in the night
                              And into the eyes of my ancestors sown
                              Stolen from gods of the Northern Lights

                                    I always choose eyes of blue
                                But they've never had strength to hold
                                  The crystals, the lights of the hue
                                    Of my own eyes, wild and bold