Melancholia Poem by John Yaws

The ego is a wilderness-
I've no doubt this is true.
And often through the forest scrub…
I catch a glimpse of you.

It seems you're always-
Out of reach… a bit beyond my grasp,
The love and sorrow, bittersweet-
Like venom from an asp.

You know I love you, always will-
Still, dear, we both must pine-
While in my heart, I'm always yours-
And you are always mine.

I'll live and long, while I draw breath-
To have you by my side-
Perhaps when we lie still in death-
At last, you'll be my bride.