THE INK OF SORROW

A melancholic ink flows from my pen, Why do I always write of sorrow then? My words are painted with a somber hue, When will the happy ever after break through? I yearn for sunshine, laughter's bright refrain, A joy that washes clean this lingering pain. I crave the moments, light and carefree, bold, A story of delight, waiting to unfold. When will good fortune finally grace my door, And offer blessings I've been longing for? Deserving of a love that knows no end, A happiness on which I can depend. So I can trade these tears for joyful rhyme, And write of happy days, transcending time. Of gentle breezes and a sky so blue, A world of wonder, vibrant and new. Until that moment, I will hold the flame, Of hope's bright promise, whispering your name. And trust that joy will find its way to me, And set my spirit finally, truly free.