David Harris (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)
We associate songs with memories
of when we first heard it played.
The song someone sang
on the day we met
becomes one of our beloved tunes.
Whenever we hear it play
our memories come flooding back
to remind us of that special day.
Some songs hold a touch of sadness
and bring tears whenever they are played
as memories of a loss spring to mind.
These are our songs
we attach to our memories
and will remain forever with us
for whenever we hear them play.
Comments about this poem (Our Songs by David Harris )
People who read David Harris also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings