The Golden Hour

Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour. Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts. Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's, my ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue. A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts, calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a true stallion. My ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue. surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes, Legs with calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a stallion, lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true? Surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes. Dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear, lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true? Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.