Golden echoes that linger in the heart, turning simple days into timeless landscapes. Tree climbing and hiding in forts, chasing ice cream trucks, snow days and hot chocolate. Saturday morning cartoons, bedtime stories. Elementary school art teachers with unfortunate names.

In crystal form, I sweeten life's brew, a delight to ants and a baker's muse. My grains perform a delicate dance, making bitter more palatable with just a glance.

At the start of the day you may throw me open, At the end of it you will draw me closed, I'm used to denote the final phase of your life, Or just the closing credits of a stage show

I am basically a fancy hat, with a much larger ego.

I hold four quarts, but not a drop of blood, I can measure milk, or petrol, or a flood. Eight whole pints are packed inside my frame, What standard unit goes by my name?