They’re here again.
That auburn that gold
the occasional surprise burst
of green or blue and purple
sits behind my eyes
and reawakens my heart
in the dark
the rainbow that is your hair in the sun
and that perfect sparkle catches my mind
again:

It’s hard to say
which earring it was
so I take the liberty to consider
each silver crystalline spear
creating harmony between gravity and your body;
I take the chance to notice
each peach, orange, and raspberry
that paint your cheeks and nose on
this sunny day
that isn’t today.

I remember
they prove the Golden Hour’s
potential for prying beauty
out of these few dimensions we can comprehend.

And it’s here again.
Smothering everything with
every most distracting color
only to leave within
an hour or less
leaving me blind
and still struggling for air,
distracted by
memory
by shapes
by your shape
by color.

The warm wispy clouds are your hair
the red and orange are your eyes and face
and the bright setting sliver
disappears behind smoke.
And all there is is color.