For years I sat at my desk, <br />writing words no one wanted to hear. <br />Wasted works of love, <br />with each page overflowing <br />with sunshine and pain. <br />They made a lovely bonfire, <br />to keep me warm when winter came. <br />The flames licked at every word, <br />that my pen had written. <br />When fire was finished <br />I dug a hole, and put the ashes in. <br />Finally covering them with earth, <br />buried those wasted works within.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wasted-works/
