An eyelid turns, a subtle bend,
Inward it curls, where lashes blend.
A touch too close, the skin does brush,
A tear-filled eye, in constant hush.
Irritation brews, a gentle sting,
Redness wraps like a painful ring.
The wind, the light, too much to bear,
A feeling sharp, like dust in air.
The cornea weeps beneath the strain,
A silent cry, an unseen pain.
Muscles weaken, scars remain,
A twisting path of eye’s domain.
Yet drops can soothe, and hands repair,
To set the eyelid back with care.
A simple fix, the pain undone,
Restored beneath the warming sun.
So here’s to healing, steady, sure—
Where sight and comfort can endure.
