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A shaggy depressed story

He couldn’t decide to get out of bed

for there was a deep depression

in his head.

There were depressive matters no matter which way he starred,

and so he just …

lay there.

He just lay there for hours / and hours / and hours,

as in deep depression

he was devoured.

The sun had rose and now is was beginning to descend

so that man realized,

the day was at an end.

And so in bed he stayed, until the very next day,

when again; in depressive pain he couldn’t decide

to get out of bed.

© Written by Dominic John Gill September 6, 2006 www.poetry.net.au  dominicj7@poetry.net.au