A tear rolls down my cheek, as I rest this lost letter up against your gravestone;
As one door closes another one opens, but this time my angels whisper that I have to walk this path on my own.
I tore off my angel wings, exchanging them for more ink and just a little bit more time;
The silent stars once guided me to my destiny, but now the once bright lights are slowly starting to lose their shine.
My history has now been re-written, as these pages take a bow they try to soak up all of this praise;
But the pen and I are still searching for these lost letters, as we try desperately to escape from this maze.
People’s expectations in me are growing, as readers expect this next letter to somehow play with their emotion;
I once sent a message in a bottle, but I never had a reply, maybe my hope is still just bobbing around in that ocean.
I may not be the world’s greatest poet, but all I can do is simply try my best;
But self confidence isn’t something they can capture and sell, so maybe it’s time for me to just lay this pen down to rest.
Instead of reading my verses with pride, I spend my time trying to make this next sentence read just a little bit better;
Maybe I have been writing with invincible ink, as I am still just sat here searching for that lost letter.
BARRY MOWLES ©2011