The birds chirp a lovely tune,
And the air smells like vanilla.
Fingers stained with a clementine scent;
Golden flakes reflect in the sun.
The trance of that song
Dancing across his nerves,
Before his thoughts are done.
Thoughts so constant,
He gets no sleep at night.
To stay focused is sometimes a continuous fight.
Deadly darkness he sits in
Flooding the empty space
With immaculate imagination.
Never will he rest his head,
There's too much action for bed.
Fly forever, Golden Boy.
Hold on dearly to that golden joy.