Muse, A WIP

I wonder as the sunny slivers shadow her gaze,
and leave a strawberry-slush blush on her face,
how those mint green tips are miles away.
o, what locks hide the map to her maze? 

When she looks over her charcoal brushed brows
She could get me diving in Hikka
And surfing in Hiri

so as I am lost in the;
lustre of her murmuring lips,
laughter in her cinnamon eyes
do our thoughts align my friend,
are those the eyes that net me?

As you turn over a new golden leaf
And I sip on some spice chai,
I continue weaving my woes: