Melancholy

The image belongs to Martin Brest

on April 1, 2009. © Stani, All rights reserved

these times, looking within, searching for meaning

in our hearts, beating in tune to thunder-like drum beats

rhythmic twists and turns, legs and arms intertwined

caught up in love's sweet dance of passion.

these times, harsh economic realities

cost cutting measures afoot every way you turn

epitaphs already written, written for the undead

waiting, helplessly, for the inevitable.

sad times, these, sad indeed. who can i turn to for help?

i cannot even join your union because of the color of my skin

where do i belong then? in the closed doorways of time

to stay hidden, to make you think i do not exist?

here i lie in love's sweet embrace, the only consolation

held in an all too often short-lived clasp

when it is all over, brought down to reality

these times, achy-breaky, harsh times.