The loneliness of
the writer who only has
his words for company,
every day he writes them down
until the flow in harmony.
A vacant look may
settle upon his face
as he retreats into
his inner space.
Where he trawls his mind
for new inspiration
and when once found
fills his soul with
a soothing sensation.
What he writes
he would love to share
but being his worse critic
he doesn’t dare.
Left upon a shelf
to gather dust
like a new bicycle
left outside to rust,
are pages upon pages
of incredible stories
that lay waiting
to be discovered
after he is sent to his eternal glory.
Beautiful
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Thanks.
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Beautifully written. ❤❤❤❤
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Thank you
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Anytime!
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