Golden hour can be any color
depending on which continent it's viewed from
blue and gold, and red and yellow sparks
on the summer nights that we spent out in the yard
Obviously we saw different things
and now that I'm back these shades won't match up
now everyday is colored blue
I feel I can't reach you
though you're just across the room
Waiting on the top of your house
for your father to fall asleep
so we could sneak out
running through the massive night
christened by the sprinklers on hissing summer lawns
Now I'm enveloped in July and August nights
not thinking back on the winter of our lives
the way the light collects on your lashes
looks like small golden planets
suspended in the night