the trembling of my hand <br />fate's string dangles <br />twisting my vision to one <br />that cannot be <br />the dust settles callously <br />over the meandering stream of thought <br />throughout the forest of my pain <br />I cannot guess the times <br />that fortune has passed me by <br />in favor of the senseless drudging <br />of the moon's cool heat <br />upon a summer's first snowfall<br /><br />Florence P. Wordsmith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-serious-poem/
