Golden HourA Poem by Emmy
Here our golden hours last only minutes,
and we all take the time to bathe in it. The beauty before us, our eyes shut tight, since senses are idle to see the light. At the end the gold sinks into our skin, a confusion of clarity sets in, and fiction gives birth to our convictions.
© 2018 Emmy |
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Added on January 5, 2018 Last Updated on February 8, 2018 |

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