Her eyes are green
Like the trees in mid-Spring
Verdant, blooming
While I’ve hardly taken root.
Her eyes shine in the light
So mesmerizingly
Like the emerald around her neck
That I could never afford.
My eyes are also green
But not in the same way as hers;
They’re more like the limes I taste
Whenever I see her.
My eyes are much more dull
Like an old, crinkled bill;
Even the Jacksons peeking out of her wallet
Want to be her, too.
