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