I cannot write of beauty
When sadness fills my mind
Why this should be I do not know
I’m not the moping kind
And though I look at lovely things
And wonder at their grace
Those trees, that sea, those starry skies
They’re from another place
Not nestled here within my heart
With melancholy signed
I cannot write of beauty
When sadness fills my mind
Yet there’ll come a day
Or so it’s said
With sad thoughts left behind
Those moons and loons
And rainbows
Once more will fill my mind
Light and Dark 
That’s where I am now, after having lost my job at Christmas. a deadbeat wannabe poet who wonders where her next meal is going to come from.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, I am very sorry to hear that, Lori, and I hope that things get better for you really soon. As to deadbeat, wannabee poet …. NOPE! You are a poet who is down on her luck is all xx
LikeLike