Like an animated picture the long
Blond afternoon stretches far out.
The signs of humanity are all about
But there is no one around-all is still
Then a lone car passes then nothing
Again.  The tableau is lonely as it is
Lovely.  I do not want to change it
I cannot.  I am alone and must be ...
Grateful; and Sad.  Slow change like
A picture is all I have  No more to
Hope for so I must save all I  have
While now whispers with long agos
And everything slowly turns golden

For Bren