Times Remembered Poem by Alan Stroeve

I have been there several times before.
The place is all too familiar but some of the faces are still the same
As I lay, I feel the pain… assured all the time I will be ok.
Time passes and my hunger grows, when I go in, nobody knows.

The time has come and lights pass by, over my head, I know why.
The room is cold and people stare within my mind I don’t care.
I hear reggae in the room, as the needle moves forward I slowly drift.
Away to sleep I will go, only to awake to something I don’t know.

The journey has only begun…………..

A.