Not For Sale

A whimsical little poem about internal turbulence/disquiet.

Not For Sale

Walking down the lane,
I descried it from afar,
with its ivied edifice
and its door ajar.

A store--
It was called Peace of Mind,
so I ventured inside
to see what I could find.

I endlessly searched the shelves,
but found not what I lacked,
and resigned myself peacefully
to accept disquiet as fact.