I want eyes that see what is here
and I want eyes that dream,
eyes that follow the feather
that falls between me and my girl
as we sit side by side
and eyes that see her both now
and at every age she’s been,
I want eyes that open to beauty
even as they cry, eyes that
see the same world in new ways,
eyes that, no matter where they land,
ask me to wonder, Is it possible,
this, too, is holy?