Melancholy: More Than Just a Word

Melancholy is such a despondent word
It's like rain on your window, misty and blurred
It's the point between here and there
The shape molded from a circle and a square
It's the pause after a sketch before a masterpiece
It's the frantic still amid turmoil and peace
‘Tis carried high so long it never stops
Yet it never really started, so clearly, it drops
It's a color that needs no other
No one makes it, no father, no mother
It doesn't give, yet it never takes
But it loves to lend some tears and aches
When joy is too much, it pulls you down
In times of sadness, it's always around
I've never met a word, until I shook it's hand
Yet somehow she came in, without request or demand
So there is my description of neither friend or foe
Much more than just a word, I've felt it, I would know

-Cherisse Peters