The Gold has Turned to Gray This poem was written by special friend and Golden lover, Lori Cacciatore. Under silky brows, brown eyes peek up and gaze upon my face, They speak to me as no words could, they show no fear, no not a trace. The eyes, they say, “I am going home, to my rest and eternal Grace.” It is hard to accept that the time has come for him to leave this earthly place. The eyes, they say, “I’m ready now, despair not, I’ll wait for you, And until then I’ll romp and play under the golden sun and delight in the sky so blue.” It’s so hard to let go, his eyes, they slumber; it’s time to let him pass through The Golden Gates of Paradise where his spirit will be renewed. He’ll wait for me; I know he will—his eyes told me he would stay, And keep watch over me to ensure I’m safe, and even though he’s far away I will sense him near, standing guard; from my thoughts he will never stray, He will dwell in my heart forevermore, even though the Gold has turned to gray.