Gold, gold, gold. Gold coin, gold stream, gold forest.
Golden autumn light, golden-hearted kin. Golden ground, golden memories.
Golden days. Years and years of them.
Do you know how many times I had to strike “gold” from my book? My pages were as littered in it as the aspen forest in October.
I changed a few of them, anyways. What other word comes close? I miss each one, just like I will miss this golden season come winter, and this golden life when it’s done.