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11/29/2009 6:29:09 AM
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When in deep despair, melancholy takes my hand Carresses my cheek gently and for the life of me The words don't come and I cannot speak The words like still pools reflect dark moonless nights Emotions that have plundered and run away To mountain hideouts Sensitivity and argument Music and metronomy Strings and wood Voices and fingers Leave me thus shaken by their power Of enchantment; all that I saw and read Felt and dreamt here and there and everywhere When in deep despair I think of my mother's love And my old father who always asks for me In spite of my age; the trust and devotion I gave to some, often unreturned But that doesn't matter. Cycles of life and love Go away and come back again When in deep despair I wonder and reflect Melancholy is a friend, not a fiend but for whom There is none, noone to touch my hand today. Copyright: Rani Turton Rani Turton
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