Early Works -Years Poem by David Harris
Early Works -Years
Children playing with their toys
dotted around the floor
peer at you with questioning eyes
as if you are a stranger in their lair.
At work all day and out of sight
but never out of mind
the only time your presence felt
is when its time to go to bed.
Oh, if work were only a dream
more time you could spend with them
playing games and being a father and a friend,
but to live you must work, toil all the day
missing the years in which your children play.
6 November 1978
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 3:23:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
True as True can be, David....Eloquent delivery....Their never seems to be enough time...and then suddenly, thy're not kids anymore. So, one evening you're sitting in your wingback, gazing at a photograph from perhaps '69, and you begin to wonder as to what you could have done different, to have done more, to have made it more fun, for them, for you...for everyone. And then you realise that you could not have done it much, if any differently, at all... for if you had, they would not have had all that they did! And bottom line...it's never enough time...Stellar Write! FjR