(With thanks to John Keats for his Ode on Melancholy)
No, no! Go not for biscuits, neither take
Sponge cake, light-textured, for its fatless lure;
Nor tempt your frail digestive tract to ache
With fruit-cake, though the choice of epicure;
Make not a comfort-food of the éclair
Nor let the crumpet nor the muffin be
Your consolation, nor the macaroon
An ally in your battle with despair;
For sugar’s rush will pass too speedily
And leave you still in anguish all too soon.
But when depression casts its dreary pall
Like a black cloth dropped on a parrot’s cage
To silence the imprisoned inmate’s call,
And sadness seems too bitter to assuage;
Then glut your sorrow on a chocolate tart
Or turn to fondant chocolat to save
Your sanity, and ease your tears and sighs
With its soft chocolate and almond heart;
Devour the dark, sweet, melting cake you crave
and feel deep, deep, the serotonin rise.