This piece is part of Margins of the First Draft—a collection of very old poems. This was one of the first poems I ever wrote and published. Considering how young I was when I started writing, this one feels especially strange, because at that age, I knew very little about love.
4. “His Eyes” was her favourite poem
His eyes
If that was not poetry
Written in two words
I. Don’t. Do. Poetry
Poetry on the Margins #4 First memory
Do you remember your very first love?
Or an instance of meeting someone for the very first time?
Or meeting a pair of eyes as such,
depicted in this poem?
I wonder if a poem
could carry the whole essence of a person —
like their eyes do.
I remember my mother telling me
that the eyes are the windows to the soul.
No wonder every man in my life
had had a fabulous pair.
There's more of my work:
If you like short stories I have them scooped up into one category (including the six-sentence stories).
The Nervous Poet at the SSC&B can be followed here.
There is also poetry.
More personal entries can be found at the Blog.
There's also the IT studies blog in Estonian and "Chaos in Spring" on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
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