What a strange day.
Water fountains flow in the autumn sun in a place previously hidden.
It is an era of an eve.
Melodies play while voice speaks of the games people play.
Ducks paddle in miniature square ponds.
People stand about enjoying the warm rays of gold while others take photographs.
It is a time for pondering.
To research avenues that may be needed and via no more than through though processes.
Annoying when all one awaits is the next number in a series of numbers.
Watchers whisper to the wind waiting impatiently to be proved right.
While the one wonders to the days ahead with fear and trepidation.
Through life one gambles, the game unfortunate but inevitable.
The gambles on occasion hold the highest stakes.
To succeed lack of focus will ruin the day forcing one to rue.
In the end those who have lost must learn again to live.
Buy they must pay a price.
To some the price is high.
To others the price would be greater and attached with longevity.
It is a melancholy day.
A day of distraction.
For the final outcome is imminent.
The path trod nearing its destination.
The outcome inevitable.
The prices to pay lay patiently in wait.
The truth is nigh.
There remains no more running.
For there are no destinations until the truth will out.
Will this be the week of what might have been?
Not long to wait now.
The sun's fading energy warms the clothing.
I am left wondering if that sun will turn cold?
A winter of nothing more than that melancholy sun.