The world is hazy without them,
colors that make up the world and it’s beauty
blend and cram into a picture of incomprehensible nonsense.

My two pairs of glasses,
they assist…
and redefine my perspective.

The first pair is larger
and the lenses slightly freckled
from years of constant use.
It causes a constant fog to trouble my vision when I wear them.

The second pair is newer
and the frames are rounded, similar to John Lennon’s iconic eye wear.
That’s why I got them,
but I feel buggish when I slide them up the bridge of my nose.

No matter their personal faults,
I love both of them.
They assist the astigmatism in my left eye,
and magnify the right one when things start to blur.
How could I not be grateful?

My artificial eyes offer me the ability to see the trees shake,
they even allow me to see the wind that attacks them.
The world is best experienced when the aggression of the air surrounding us
can be seen from the simplest of onlookers.
I thank them for making me dwell,
dwell on how little I pay attention to the nature surrounding us.

These lenses show me if a boy is worth ogling at.
Whether he has an aquiline nose,
or if his eyes are too small
and don’t properly fit his face.
My awareness of these features is purely based on my glasses,
I thank them for influencing my shallow tendencies.

My two sets of frames draw the attention of other people.
I can feel the prick of their compliments,
“I love the shape,” is a common one.
My glasses allow me an excuse to converse with my friend on the bus,
to where we compare our prescriptions,
and bond over our decaying vision.
I don’t know who I direct this thanks to,
maybe to the passing people who notice my frames,
or maybe to the specs that draw the attention.
Overall I will say thank you
for making me feel good about myself,
and for the useful conversation starter.

And I pity those who stereotype their peers with glasses,
to be obnoxious know-it-alls lacking social skills.

Our lenses provide a service
that invisible contact lenses could never substitute.

They are an accessory,
a friend,
and I’m not wearing mine now.

I should put my glasses on,
just so this poem can end…
because it would be hypocritical
to finish a poem
praising them,
when I can’t stand to wear them myself.