Under the filter of afternoon sun

Tired, worn wood turns into gold

I hold my hands into the beams of light

Watching my silver rings transmutate

You throw your hair into the warmth

Red roots dyed by the rays of daytime

Loose leaves lose their chlorophyll

After falling between the two of us

Premature fireworks fly through the sky

Colors morphing into another hue

Months ago I stole my mother's crucifix

The aged dust glitters like gold in sunshine

Last week you stole your brother's clothes

The school insignia no longer matches school colors

It seemed like yesterday that I sat here with someone else

A year appears to move faster than a few hours recently

The sun sets for the evening and the wood loses its strength

Its worth spiraling down an invisible drain, most likely the soil

Tonight I contemplating going back inside or staying out with you. Your hair loses its daytime shimmer and gains a new glow under the moon.