My favourite time of day with you, is the golden hour on a sunny day. When the gold light dances n cascades, magnifying off any surrounding window pane, like the one, central to your bed, Illuminating the world around in a prismatic magic.
It takes me back to the time we spun the first record on your new set up;
(Goes without saying)
We collapsed back on the bed, you in underwear a shade of blue - mine lace and red. Eyes darting from speaker right to speaker left, switching spots only to repeat. Once the check felt complete, we got lost in one another, a wash of that golden light.
It takes me back to the spring, outside your parents house.
We were standing, with your Mother in her garden bed. We discussed the iris she had grown, to such a hight, the sight of which, closed up, tricked me and even I couldn't name it's tiger striped genus. The sun was kissing the horizon that fresh night, that familiar gold glowing all around us. I had bets, my trusty rusty ride ready for you, ready to escape into the night.
I have yet to see those flowers in full bloom but as I walk Euclid Ave and see how bountiful the tiger Iris has bloomed; purple pouted petals folding out like tongues, their intricate fractal design fluttering out of the flowers core, and such aromatic spring scents springing from them, I can't help but imagine your mothers Tiger Iris. I bet all the flowers on my neighbours yards pale in comparison to hers, for I've seen what her nurturing can breed and I can attest for it's greatness. Not just in gargantuan size, but in character and great golden heart.
I think about us looking at one another in the glittering light fluttering from that familiar central window, interwoven, placid and yet simultaneously rebuilding energies back from long days in the sun. Excitement surrounding us anticipating full nights ahead - either wild and wobbly with the crew or solo conquests of laughing and lounging on my couch with heavy petting and heavy snacks.
All of Which, feels as golden and pure as an Invaluable glittering ore.