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