I wonder why sad days are described as ugly.

Mine from sunrise to sunset and even into the night was just a picturesque scenery akin to the beginning of a love story as only cinema can allow us to glimpse.

So there, that fateful morning as the stars fade giving way to the sun, I see a silhouette that will never be seen again.

Not a cloud in sight and the summer breeze rustled the leafs like a violin concerto in waves of power and comfort.

When’s the truck coming?

Soon I’ll get going.

Before the kids start coming.

Not a cloud in sight, just blue sky as far as one can eye.

Trucks here, I’ll help you load and unload for old times’ sake.

A house half empty or half full, can’t decide what a fool.

No winners, only losers yet no clouds.

A twinkle here, a blink there, stars fill the ever-extending sky.

Wondering, who will miss who on a Sunday.

A seemingly lost gaze but it’s a pondering wonder figuring:

What now?

What’s next?

Where do we go from here?