Husky Eyes

My treasure is my eyes, 

The colors they create,

The color they are, 

Gray husky and slate. 


My treasure is not captive,

Folded within my pocket,

Look into them,

See a past,

As they rest in their socket. 


People used to say bright gray-blue eyes were freakish,

But every day my mother, with sunflower eyes,

Looks into mine,

With no judgment. 


She says that they are like a goddesses,

And I can become wrapped within her arm,

Like her treasure, 

Maybe I am her charm. 


So my treasure is my eyes so I can see,

My mother, my treasure equally.

In my eyes, look and see, 

Changing barely



No secrecy.

My eyes see everything, colors,


My eyes are blue with fire, 

My treasure.

Isi Gibson


14 years old

More by Isi Gibson

  • Old Skin

    Fall had come, and close to its end, it approached. The air became brisk, with winter awaiting in the future, and as a girl wandered down the sidewalk, autumn's old skin shifted through the air above her maple hair.

  • I

    Take my hand, 

    And let your other hold on to a kite that is a

    Shooting Star.


    The harvest moon will rise above us,

    as we fly,