Eyes of

And she watches me intently with the eyes of a recalcitrant child,
The anger there like an icy cold blast
Her disappointment on display for all to see
If the shutter has rattled down the blue is slate grey
With only lighting flashes of their original blue
The time is fast approaching where your tenuous thread
She will snap in icy anger
Your face will register shock then disbelief
Because it wasn’t you,  never was, couldn’t be
Could it?

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

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