Golden summers, where the sun melts into the lake and we head home, huddled in damp towels to keep the sand from getting all over the seats, fireflies flashing sparks of glitter
it was shining in the sunlight, surrounded by a soft glow that seemed to emanate from the jewel itself. it was gold, yes, but not that kind of gold. it shone with its own mystery, it gleamed with its secrets, and its lies were worth more than anything real gold could buy.
Golden summers, where the sun melts into the lake and we head home, huddled in damp towels to keep the sand from getting all over the seats, fireflies flashing sparks of glitter
it was shining in the sunlight, surrounded by a soft glow that seemed to emanate from the jewel itself. it was gold, yes, but not that kind of gold. it shone with its own mystery, it gleamed with its secrets, and its lies were worth more than anything real gold could buy.