Growing up, I found a melancholy spring.
I often lingered in its belly
slept in its warmth
hid in its shadows
cried in its pools

I chose the life of guarded existence
Slipped over the surface of things
hid away in the shadows

Spring turned to summer and fall
melancholy froze in its place
and waited 'til next year
to crawl inside again

As I left the comfort of melancholy
I expected to find love
start from the bottom
look through endless rows
and found no sound but whispers.

Then there was a little stir.