Hour Of Uncertainty Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My hour is now of uncertainty
So much of feelings inside of me
Each memory like a question mark
Those through my thoughts now embark

Meanings going round and around
With some old findings again found
From an early thought
That time has taught
And still within my search are bound

The hours that now have departed
Even before they really started
Those feelings I'd recollect to let go
Like winter times falling melting snow