David Harris Poems

Behind each poem, that I write
hides a different face of me.
One of love and caring,
one sadness and sorrow,
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Watching the news and I had to shake my head,
a featherbrained crackpot stood there,
they want to a ban a forty odd year old advert
about going to work on an egg,
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There is a place from our childhood;
we like to visit now and then,
to recapture our youth,
through the years that has slipped away.
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My dear Lord not so long ago, a matter of months to be exact, you sent me someone I barely knew.
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I found a little fairy
someone had discarded on the ground.
I picked her up
put her in my pocket.
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For Geof
Who waited for so long.

Today I am taking a copy of my book
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For Duncan Wyllie
Who suggest I write this in a comment he once made.

Back in the 1800’s
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We sit around a table,
listening to poems spoken,
on different subjects.
Each one has a message
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I’d give all my tomorrows
for just one yesterday.
A day when I was young
before the world took it away.
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The smoke from his pipe
rose up like a small cloud.
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