The sun never seemed as golden as when I saw it from the canopy. The reptilian skin trunk of the tree snaked around me like the roof of a gazebo
The grass glistened as the sun poured sweet golden nectar across the fields. To my left sat my friend, a vision of relief within the arid summer days.
We sat teetering on the branches of the great tree, swinging on the vines of our dwindling adolescence, and ate the sweet fruits born from our youth before it grew rotten.