Acme

We stare into each other’s eyes, our amber-colored eyes, the ones with garden iris longings, and revel in those memories we scripted one by one. Crescent moonlit walks on sweeping mountain paths, Orange red clouds that fluttered over early morning hearts, Ice pink salmon picnics in chalk downlands, days we danced on layered silver strands, blossom feathered doves who wrote the soundtrack to our blissful union, golden wedding peaks about to acme as we float upon the satin sheets then pass into that twilight world beyond forever more.