Golden Days

Sunshine spills, yellow gold on the floor,

slip out of silk sheets, groggy,

slink to the bathroom door.

Wipe the eyes, yawn, and complete

the routine. Brush,

rinse, dress — now time to eat.

Bread and eggs, nestled in,

outside a sedated buzz,

humming, ready to begin.

Sink into cushion, spin to

position. Melodies muffle, focus.

Dark screen in wide view.

Coded text — stopped — then slide slow,

click, clack, pause,

cool breeze a steady drone.

Golden pool on a languid stroll,

turning dark orange,

takes us closer to the goal.

Eight miles in, end of the road,

slide back, sapped,

a day of seeds sowed.

Up, to glass threshold.

Through the panes, view crimson waves,

washed out and tinged with gold.

Dim the lights, hang low,

relax, sleep, then return to

golden days, tomorrow.