Sometimes we think of golden days

Of sun-kissed afternoons

Spent on the backyard swing

Dragging our toes through the earth

Painting our secrets

In sand

Still damp from yesterday’s rain.

We picture oldie movie scenes

People driving

In rusted pickup trucks

Through quiet towns

And empty roads

Windows open

Drinking up the wind.

We hear our favorite songs

Remember leaning against the speakers

Of our first radio

Closing our eyes

So that we could feel deep

And poetic

And away from the world.

We remember lovers

All of them

The moments that we thought

Were just dreams

Gazing at stars in their eyes

And dancing, weightless

To the slow songs that we loved.

We touch the scars of old wounds

Find the teardrops

That we hid, long ago

In frayed jacket sleeves

And think of how strange it is

That even heartache

Can be so inexplicably lovely.

And sometimes all we do is think

About the dreams we used to live

Where forever was a year and a half

Where hearts could afford to be broken

And where an entire bittersweet lifetime

Could be spent

In just one

Golden

Day.