Heredity's Sorrow Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Laughter rises heartily every time melody hits it's
limits, entering dimensions of hereditary derisiveness
on balanced sheets of wind.
Winding about circles of evergreen journeys fills our
minds with crystal clear enjoyment.
Makers of back street booze handled emptiness by
drinking many glasses per day.
Daily partaking of everyday equivalents of mistaken
identities, life passed by with no enlightenment to
speak of.
Lightly expectant blues penetrate beautifully, the
minds' of sorrowful glances.