Отклонения, лирически и прозаически

I often find myself in wonder
what would it feel like, going under
to reach the depths of thy brown eyes, that, so enchanting, hide so much surprise,
for they do have that thrill of magic
hath ended ever, found, but tragic.
Be they of colour blue as skies
I`d swim, no fear blunting prize,
that prove reward for my desire
to cast myself regardless any fire
and that of loves as fair
as the warmth thou hast for me
when seest the birth
of signs of life
in tired soul and mind,
whene`er myself near thee I find.