Eyes are the Mirrors of the Soul

Today I'll talk about two people you might or might not know. The one in the first photo is me. I was 46 and I was auditioning for some plays and commercials that year. It's a head shot from my contact sheet. When we got married, Tom kept it on his night table so I was the first thing he saw in the morning, whether I was there or not.  The poem below he wrote about my eyes the year before he died.

ICICLE

Icicle, Icicle, burning bright,

light of mystery, light of delight.

What is the fire I see,

burning bright, burning true?

Do you love me, as I love you?

Can there be true fire in eyes so blue?

Hush, sweet crystal eyes.

I hold you now, sleep through the night.

Icicle, icicle – eyes that delight,

first green, then violet, then blue.

Will love that burns with such

sweet passion, stay forever true?

First you see me, then I see you.

I stroke your heart, and the fires flame.

Then they flicker violet, or is it blue?

If I should fall in love this night, I blame you.

Thomas Carmack Rice

This is Tom when he got his BA in playwriting and directing. You can't see those amazing, sapphire blue eyes, but you can see that wild, red hair! Below the picture is the poem I wrote about his eyes the same year he wrote the one about mine.

THOSE EYES

Those eyes have seen a lifetime of pain and hurt,

yet returned only kindness and understanding.

Those eyes have seen a world that looked so bad,

and still managed to pick out the hidden good.

Those eyes have seen the hopelessness in humans,

but found a way to give them a glimpse of hope.

Those eyes have seen my mind, my heart, my soul,

and joined lockstep in the eternal dance of love.

Karen Mabry Rice