golden
what makes up color,
especially the color gold?
maybe it’s the shine and luster,
or something impossible to be sold.
i think it’s the sun,
how it feels on your face;
or maybe it’s the sparkle,
like stars in outer space.
and while we’re talking about night,
it’s warm sand between your toes
but only by the ocean,
while the moon starts to glow.
when dusk is just hitting,
and it’s only slightly dark,
when the sky still contains color,
and the campfire begins to spark.
gold isn’t greedy,
like how it’s come to be.
it’s untameable beauty,
at least, that’s how it is to me.
it was the feeling of my hair,
when he told me it looked nice.
it was the sound of my heart,
when he smiled at me twice.
it was the remnants of his voice,
that echoed against my lips,
the brushing of his fingers,
gently against my hips.
the music that was playing,
gold in all its scripts,
and finally, it was goodbye,
lost amongst the ships.
i sit here now, knowing he won’t come home.
but yet, somehow, i don’t feel alone.
it isn’t his fault; he was lost at sea.
And i know in my heart, he’ll find me.
because he was the color of gold,
pure, precious, and undoubtedly bold.
