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.