You’re flying high
On a cloud
In a too blue sky,
Then suddenly low
At half past late
Land at hell’s gate,
Yet soon revert
Without you bide
To feel quite pert,
When up down ride
Now finds your mind inert…
Fixed on a whirlwind
Of mood swings,
This state of mind
From obsequious smile
To woebegone resign,
Wants but loose the moods
That plays one like a fiddle!
Poetry on a Canapé 
So well done to use the fiddle as the metaphor here. Brilliant!
Always a treat to string a few words just so, that reaches to please a respected possessor of active grey matter. Thank you Paulette. Jean-Jacques Fournier
A profound theme and one that is difficult to face. Indeed, life soon disables all and yet, in your words, there is great hope. Wonderfully said.
Very hard to deal with mood swings, those imposed on us, as well as those we impose on others. Time, if we are around long enough, has us see the folly of allowing our selves to succumb, and time after all can and does offer hope. Thank you Rebecca, for your kind words of appreciation. Jean-Jacques
I am a great one for Mood swings, good to know I am not the only one. I have also learned that they don’t last because life takes over…
Yes as you say fortunately life takes over, save in the interim for some these swings can sadly be irreparably destructive. Jean-Jacques