Eyes that Kiss in the Corners

Some people have eyes like sapphire lagoons with lashes like lace trim on ballgowns, sweeping their cheeks as they twirl. Big eyes, long lashes. Not me. I have eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea. My eyes are just like Mama’s. Mama’s eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea crinkle into crescent moons when she comes home from work. She scoops me in her arms, eyes sparkling like starlight, and tickles me until we laugh ourselves onto the floor. My Mama is my sun and sky, and her eyes are just like Amah’s. Amah’s eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea don’t work like they used to. But she sees all the way into my heart and can even read my mind. My Amah never ages, and her eyes are just like Mei-Mei’s. Mei-Mei’s eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea blink against the window until I come home from school. Mei-Mei’s eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea are just like mine. My lashes curve like the swords of warriors and, through them, I see kingdoms in the clouds. My eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea are a revolution.