Melancholy
i know i am a writer
a poet and ponderer
of thoughts and moods
i know that especially
when i sit solemn
melancholy
sure of it when
on a sunny perfect day
clouds are
puffy white cotton
breeze blowing cool
fresh tunes of
nearby leaves
yet i in a doleful daze
contemplate the irony
of the contentment
of the smiling desolate bum
under the bridge with
his three-legged scruffy mutt
and the misery of the polished
stuffy businessman
behind the wheel of his mercedes
at the light
his prized yapping poodle
snarling out of the window
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