From Letters Unread
He can't see a bright lit end
to his long and rocky road,
Yet recalls the letters sent
in the chill of winter's cold.
Now is lost the promise lent
when the spirit had been sold,
And his heart was overspent
long before he had grown old.
She'd been cast upon the waves
at the mercy of the tide,
Thrown out like the ageing slaves
whom the righteous can't abide.
There are letters that she saves
for the thoughts that were implied,
All about the love she craves
though it’s always been denied.
Stars cross o'er a midnight sky
as two lovers fight for sleep,
Neither holds the tears they cry
in regards to what they keep.
Vows once thought now seem to fly
above valley walls so steep;
Beauty seen in passing by
is nothing more than skin-deep.
One thing stirs within the storm
and the conflicts of the heart:
Childhood years which lose their form
after being torn apart.
Dreams get lost deep in a swarm
that had been built from the start,
Nothing more rides with the norm
in an ageing, empty cart.
The bright lights can wait no more
as the words fade into greys,
Yesterday becomes folklore
in the memory that sways.
He's now locked behind a door,
left pining for his lost days;
Letters pile up on the floor
near the bed where she now lays.
Copyright © Daniel Larson | Year Posted 2012
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