Finding Pockets Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Following ideas and notions throughout the hours like the
willow trees follow the breeze.

Fasting heartily from happiness and joy, finding pockets
to hide in, keeping out of sight.

Racing the gamut of emotions, trying them all on, yet
cannot find one to fit - there are no right sizes.

Leaving, dropping them all off behind, searching for some-
thing, anything to fill up a decaying hole.

Cavity of a friendship reaches down and hits a nerve,
splashing pain and hurt throughout life.

Knowing there's no one to turn to - no help in sight,
falling desperately into the well of make believe and can
find nothing there either.