I'm not really a poet, but . . .

If eye were to see
the open
I
What would eye behold?

A child enveloped
in womanly flame
to ne'er again be told.

This child held up
eye can see,
by a man so long fortold

This man so warm
can see this
I,
and hand he came to hold.

The heart of
I
within the eye
the beauty there retold.

He see's in eye
the imagined
I
worth far more than gold.

With such an
I
his eye gives love
softer past the bold.

The worth of eye
that sees the
I
never can be told.

And the
I
welcoming the eye
Forever will
I hold.