sitting on the porch

thigh to thigh,

smoking a cigarette

in the golden hour,

looking into your clear blue eyes,

you say my dark eyes

have sparks of gold.

gold like the ruby ring

you put on my finger,

like the frames of my glasses

and the sheen of your hair.

being married to you,

golden hour lasts

our whole lives,

the trees and your face

haloed in glittering gold.