Gold

Gold is the hush before a promise is kept,
the color of time when it finally agrees to stay.
It lives in the bend of late afternoon,
where the sun leans close and tells secrets to the earth.

Gold remembers — 
crowns worn thin by thought,
rings warmed by generations of hands,
coins that once believed they were the future.

It is heavy with wanting,
yet soft when it learns your name.
A bruise of light on the horizon,
a language spoken by fire and patience.

Not just wealth,
but the courage to shine without apology,
to be forged, bent, and still glow — 
quietly saying: I endured, and I remain.