Of When My Days Were Young Poem by David Harris

I hear the whispering voices
from across the back roads of my mind.
The memories are calling me again
from a long forgotten time
of when my days were young.

I look blankly through the window
as images dance across my eyes
of when love first captured me
and seduced me with its warmth
of when my days were young.

Places and faces change with every scene
tantalizing my senses
with half-forgotten things
that had lain dormant
of when my days were young.


10 April 2011