Wasted Works Poem by David Harris
Wasted Works
For years I sat at my desk,
writing words no one wanted to hear.
Wasted works of love,
with each page overflowing
with sunshine and pain.
They made a lovely bonfire,
to keep me warm when winter came.
The flames licked at every word,
that my pen had written.
When fire was finished
I dug a hole, and put the ashes in.
Finally covering them with earth,
buried those wasted works within.
But not this one David, not this one, , your words are best served to the viewer You're a STAR* Love duncan X
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/24/2026 8:47:31 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
Sorry to argue with you my friend, but lots of people here love your words...10