Melancholy came over me,
like dew on a window pane,
suddenly becomes the rain.
A longing, inside, that grew,
into a chasm, deep, blue and wide,
from which, my dread cannot hide.
Running a shiver up my spine,
for all the times I white lied,
to keep the pain pushed aside.
Like when winter is upon me,
and I see no way for will to survive,
waiting for melancholy to arrive.
It's times like these,
Times not so joke and jolly,
caught up in melancholy.
Uneasy feeling, thoughts reeling,
my melancholy comes a stealing,
and I try not to cry.
Read War's End, the Novel
Copyright 2006 © Ronald W. Hull