There is something about poetry
that lends itself to melancholy.
That leads the mind to be morose,
To draw misery and sorrow close.
But apply a little thought around,
Something brighter can be found.
Every rhyme can be a quip,
every verse becomes a hit,
Of something just to lift one up,
More sure than wine in a cup.
So I wrote this as an aide memoire.
Serious poems are not all there are.