Hello Dear Readers!  Sometimes we have to take time out from our busy schedules to help those less fortunate — happiness-wise.  And to that end, we are taking another crack at trying to cheer up the greatest weeping word-smith of them all,  Edgar Allan Poe. 

Hi Edgar!  Hey, you’re looking more rested today.  I hope that means you’ve been sleeping better and are not staying up til dreary midnight, weak, weary and whatnot?

You are not wrong to deem — That my days have been a dream.

Oh good so that means you’ve been catching up on  your sleep by taking some cat naps?  Good for you Edgar! You’re bound to feel more chipper when you’re rested!

All that we see or seem —  Is but a dream within a dream.

Well, I don’t know about that but, okay, I’m willing to consider that idea.  I just hope you’ve been getting outside too and not just sleeping on the couch all day.

I stand amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore.

Oh so you went to the beach and the tide was in!  Well that’s good.  A day at the beach can do wonders for a person’s mood!

And I hold within my hand — Grains of a golden sand–

Oh how nice!  Now you’re seeing the glass half full!  See, Edgar,  isn’t that more fun?

How few but how they creep — Through my fingers to the deep

While I weep — while I weep!

What? Wait a minute . . .  let me get this straight.  You’re saying you picked up a handful of sand and some grains slipped out of your hand and that made you cry?  Uh, and you call yourself a grown man?  I hope you kidding, Edgar.

O God!  Can I not grasp — Them with a tighter clasp?

Well, don’t be so down on yourself.   So what if you’re too uncoordinated to hold some sand in your hand without dropping it.  What difference does it make in the big scheme of things, I mean, really Edgar!

O God!  Can I not save One — From the pitiless wave?

There you go again, Edgar, focusing on what you can’t do instead of what you can!  Hey I know!  Why don’t you go rent a surf board and try surfing instead of trying to keep the sand from washing out to sea?  It would be way more fun, I guarantee!  Hey Edgar, did you notice how what I just said  rhymes?  What do you think of my poem?

Is all that we see or seem — But a dream within a dream?

Oh yeah right, don’t say anything about my poem, just go back to sleep . . . you big crybaby!

Well, it seems our attempts to cheer up Edgar have fallen on sleeping ears!  But don’t worry, Dear Readers, for we shall never give up on our ongoing effort to cheer up the world’s most pathetic paragraphist, Edgar Allan Poe.

Until next time . . . I love you