Contour Of Life Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Topics of importance don't concern me when I'm in a certain
mood.

Today, my mind and soul are filled only with a tight-fisted
little sadness.

Again, soon, I will be in a situation I don't want to be in.

Interior serenity is disturbed, is a little apprehensive of
what is soon to come about.

Slowly grasping at straws, clutching only thin air, because
I am not quick enough.

Exhaustingly forlorn, sitting at a wayside contour of life,
considering what, if anything, I am doing in the near future
to make me happy.