At the risk of perpetrating a cliche
I must admit-- the light in this room
Is golden. Just plain golden.
There's nothing I can do about it,
Either. Not even the most original
Flight of poetic fancy
Will render this light anything
But golden. Humph. Ah well--
One must resign one's self
And recall that all the best things
Are cliches; from golden light to poetry to
Love, and that most of all.