In murmurs we sank
dizzy minds torn out the day.
Then comes stillness,
as the breeze is heard,
variegated.

In beam treads autumn noon
Now the photographer laugh it out
Nothing seems to be captured
For she takes it
an overture.

“Why does the sun go on shining?”
An afternoon fervidity
of two thousands of miles
of away, of afar.
Where seaweeds stand no still,
a silhouette steers.

I turned down the tune.