Golden Hour

We play like children holding hands in a circle.
We watch the leaves find their way from end to beginning.
We know their dance along the back drop of golden hour.
I watch you watching.
I notice you noticing...
This is the end.
Summer dreams just beyond the stretch of ones hand.

Sometimes our eyes meet and I wish to read your mind,
but the senses are weak and I shy to the barrier of thought.
Sometimes the curiosity of our finger tips
searches the lines on the palms of our hands.
I learn the way you are learning.
I know what you begin knowing...
This is the end.
All at once the tears empty out my head.

The darkness spins with the guardians of the night,
billions of lights dancing in the sky.
The golden hour greeted the moon.
I fear you are fearing.
I miss what you will miss.
This is the end.
I wait for our beginning.