Behind those eyes of yours so brown,
At times I catch a future frown
That may one day replace your cheer
As life’s dark side begins to rear
Its ugly head and youth’s sun sets.
From weathered heartache, mounting debts,
Crushed, awe-filled dreams, depressing loss,
Adult’s drab glower spreads across
One’s face like gangrene takes a toe,
A marring rot, one cruel and slow.
The sickness works to guarantee
That beautiful transparency
Is colored in with ashes charred—
Blinds drawn, walls up, doors locked, heart barred.
It binds once unbound liberty
And casts faith out on doubt’s dark sea.
Bright, vibrant wonder dims to gray,
Becoming cynicism’s prey.
An openness, once unashamed,
Is turned to shadowed secrets chained
Within a nervous heart that fears
Another’s judgments, jokes, or jeers.
Oh, precious eyes of yours so brown,
I fear that maturation’s frown
May soon assail your innocence
And turn youth’s tune to dissonance.
And yet, brown eyes, I’m not content
To leave you sheltered, ignorant
Of life’s disturbing truths of pain,
For glimpses of the Lamb once slain
And genuine perceptions of
The greatness of the Father’s love
Are offered just to those who bear
Hatred of sin’s consuming snare.
So don’t be blind, dear child, of all
Adulthood has in store; man’s fall
And all its horrors rightly seen
Will drive your soul to Christ pristine.
So I will not bemoan the find
Of sin’s sick cancer of the mind
If such a grim discovery
Compels your soul’s recovery
And leads you to the cross. May ills
Constrain your search for him who kills
The sin that robbed your virgin smile
And beautifies each sin-caused trial,
For he is joy though grownup’s frown
Has dashed young hopes of eyes so brown.
© 2011 Eric Evans