Melancholy

My cat eats food. Not all at once like he would prefer. Late at night, he scurries back for more. Standing by a lake. It’s frozen. Snow is frozen too, but softer. Is it a lake anymore? If it isn’t alive with fish and litter? Melancholy. Is… What we all feel sometimes. When we are forgetful, and mourning, and we don’t eat breakfast. Walking slowly, but not on cracks. Far away and forgotten. Like that dime I left at the register. Wearing a fedora and carrying an umbrella. Distant. Similar to depression. Except alluring, and beautiful.