The twilight of the day came. Though not through some mysterious power. Not through the calamity of a quiet existence. but through the smiling silence and a detached look. Collected photoscraps and old written letters, wrinkled down into his brief-case. A red paper lantern with a solemn and hopeful fiber. In her arms were they lit by a small flame. He brought a shovel along his journey by the meadows, where the dead spirits rise to breathe. By the bay, she wrote her promised future. Letter by letter, on a red paper fiber. The day's brilliance had a soft orange glow. With a sudden quiet and speechless engine. The breeze was crying a gentle wind. The soil shifted and was shoveled away inertly. It was time he truly buried this. The gusts were uplifting and cool. She released her red paper lantern. The golden moon watched patiently. When he looked up and saw a red flickering glow with a paused glare. He kicked the case down the shoveled hole. She smiled with a gloomy heart, as it floated and drifted away into the sleepy sky. "So long, lonesome."