She waits. Dusk painted in stripes across the sky. A banner, motionless, like the past, just an image, freely available through time's looking glass but no longer valid.
Sound, stays, in the present though. And the future has only virtues.
And so, another day done. Another banner to be folded and set.
She sighs, and hears her sigh.
I stand, and watch the setting day in all its colours, and feel her silence.
But that is already the past.
all is quiet again