Melancholy
Melancholy is the day,
Even the roses begin to weep.
The parakeets took a break from chirping,
And the cats and kittens took a seat.
I take a cloth to dry my eyes,
Though the unforgiving sun wants to pry.
I will not say why all are sad,
Because I really don't know what is so bad.
Though today I choose to cry,
And reflect on those who have died.
And beneath the tree I'll sit of holly,
As I'm so gosh-darn melancholy.
18-September-2021
Copyright © Robert James Liguori | Year Posted 2021
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