Setting Suns and Golden Skies

A fierce sun was setting as I awoke;
The evening sky a liquid gold that leaked
from a painter’s fine brush — a brush you used
to ease my latent fears; a brush as smooth,
as light, as mighty pure as white feathers
from an angel’s wings sought to dry my tears.
And you, my love, left no room for darkness — 
a smile that bright could gush nothing but light. 
Your soothing fingers exiled the night’s cold
to lives lived a million years ago.
And in our warm summers, there’d been no pasts, 
no future, only us and a pale moon, 
feebly hidden beneath our golden skies.