In glances soft where whispers dwell,  
In silent stories eyes compel.  
Love's grip, unseen, holds hearts in thrall,  
Where souls converse, beyond the pall.

It's in the gaze, no words expressed,  
That truest forms of love are dressed.  
Through windows wide with soulful sight,  
We touch the depths, eschewing night.

In every look, love's language speaks,  
Beyond mere touch, its power peaks.  
For in the eyes, the soul's pure dance,  
We find love's quiet, profound expanse.

Created by
MarkWaldrop