Brazen Eyes

I had a friend once. A good friend.
I shared some of my emotions-in-verse; published a page or two...
...or three, for him to read.

It's not something I normally would have done; allowed myself to do.
But he asked--no, demanded, with that all-familiar voice as stern as thunder, but soft as rain, and that's not something anyone had ever done before.

"Let me see," He'd said, looking at me with those bold, brazen, brown eyes. And without hesitation, because I was surprised and trusted him with all I was, I replied, "Okay," handed him the pages, small but full as possible in scritch-cursive, and shared with him things I've never shared with anyone else.

Afterwards, though his face was heavy with the burden of knowledge, all those brazen eyes did were smile in comfort, as always before, never failing me. He understood, and that's all I needed to know, and all he needed to convey...

So he never asked, or demanded, again.