Today I was going through my old notes and came across this poem by Ogden Nash, and I feel it best describes melancholy we fall into once in a while…
How many gifted pens have penned
That Mother is a boys best friend!
How many more like afflatus
Award the do that honoured status!
I hope my tongue in prune juice smothers
If I belittle dogs or Mothers,
But gracious, how can I agree?
I know my own best friend is me.
We share our joys and aversions,
We’re thicker than the Medes and Persians,
We blend like voices in a chorus,
The same things please the same things bore us.
If I am broke, then Me needs money;
If I make a joke, Me finds it funny.
I know what I like, Me knows what art is:
We hate people at the cocktail parties,
When I can stand the crowd no more,
Why, me is halfway to the door!
I am a dodo, Me a hawk;
We grieve that pictures learned to talk;
For every sin that I produce
Kind Me can find some soft excuse,
And when I blow a final gasket,
Who but me will share the my casket?
Beside us, Pythias and Damon
Were just two unacquainted laymen.
Sneer not, for if you answer true,
Don’t you feel that way about YOU?