Delicate Neon
⁷
He never saw gray eyes though they are sung
In praise. Telemachus’ and wisdom’s eyes,
Athena’s, Homer chanted from his tongue
Yet reverenced. Ancient lines, still, alchemize
The silver grays, presenting them as facts
Of goddess and of hero. Maybe meant
To be a form of silver, artifacts
Of glory, eyes of gray thrilled out the scent
Of manna or ambrosia feasted on
In Mount Olympus halls, or maybe gray
Was meant to be the background of the dawn
In colors that no poet’s lips will say.
Divinity and valor come to mind
Like lavender and sterling light combined.
~ Phillip Whidden 
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