Everyone in my family has eyes, eyes so different, but the same.  Father has eyes, drowsy and wrinkled from late nights, but so illuminating with intense green. Those same eyes gleaming with anger and with love, but not at the same time. Mother's eyes, oh mother's eyes, radiates from a diamond glow, brilliant brown, that stares deep into your soul.  Eyes that give you a feeling of terror or excitement, but not at the same time.

Brothers eyes, beaming with green and brown specks, eyes that any girl could fall in love with. His eyes like a polished new green apple that fell from the tree, on a crisp fall day. Eyes that glow with sadness, or pleasure, but not at the same time. My sister's circle like eyes, so brown, so crisp like a brown cow. And with each glance, she gives things new meanings, happy or sad, but not at the same time. My eyes, emerald green, with dull muddy brown rings. Eyes that radiantly glow as they fill with wet tears, that stream down your face, when I’m crying with laughter or pessimistic, but not not at the same time. Our eyes, our eyes are one in the same, but never at the same time.