Melancholy seems to see me as its friend
It visits me quite often
There are times it comes unannounced
And I’m left to offer a chair for it to sit upon

It pours its sadness in my chest like wine
Then we talk about things that makes me sigh
It wraps its arms of loneliness around me
And I shiver from the gloom that frosts my walls

I both dread and welcome each visit
Because I miss the mirth which leaves once it comes
But the wistfulness brings out these words
And the woes turns to ink, so I always leave the door open so it can come and say hello…