Toll Of Sorrow Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Late night at Brookshire's, sitting and having coffee,
wondering all alone.

Nothing will befall these sagging shoulders for they
have already taken their toll of unbelief and sorrow
once, when it was too great for them to hold.

Nowhere can an answer be found, everything has been
buried deep underground.

Always on the brink of discovery, yet never finding
what anything is about, all that's left is an empty
shell.

Cracked and broken, no longer a token to show love
the way, finding itself with no authority, no glory,
only an emptiness of self.

That is all as life, so long and lonely, quietly,
gently with no sound closes it's doors on everything
it has ever found.