Figuratively enjoying conversations with a friend, touching
upon the different facets involved in our lives.

All of the sorrow and undeserved turmoil that has landed us
in the positions we have found ourselves in.

Energy wasted, ebbing and waning, depending on what is
happening to us at any given moment in time.

Burying ourselves in pastimes of poetry just to keep our-
selves going to the end of life, our spirits ebbing and
flowing rhythmically throughout our days and nights.

Floundering and succumbing to every rising tide, carrying
us out to sea and sending us adrift in a sea of grief.

RoseAnn V. Shawiak

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pastimes-of-poetry/