New Eyes

A time or two they had rolled under the bed,

through the closets, around in my head.

Tired and worn, they had seen so much.

Pain, hurt, love, friendship and such.

 

A time had come to put them to rest,

a time had come, "new eyes would be best."

Now these eyes had rolled to new places,

seeing things differently, seeing new faces.

 

My eyes don't see the way they did before,

everything has changed down to my core.

I change my eyes this way every day,

keeping them fresh and open in any which way.

 

Same route to work, to school and play,

these routes begin to change with new eyes each day.

Looking at things I saw yesterday in new light,

apples are always sweetest upon the second bite. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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