David Harris Poems

Gold is a metal that glints in the sun,
a precious metal that everyone wants some,
but gold can also be more special
when friendship looms on you.
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For Marci Made

There is a young lady,
who reads my poems,
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For My Wife

I’m writing this poem to tell you
Just how much you mean to me
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Some roads we take,
are long and dusty,
others are dark and gloomy.
It is then we need a little light
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Heaven is where the heart lies
and the heart lies where it calls home
and home is always
where you hang your hat.
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There is a young man up here,
whose birthday it is today.
He is twenty-one years young,
that is what he would have us believe,
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A mother’s love is something precious;
no one can ever take away.
While we grow, she is always there,
to comfort and console.
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You are my pick me up
when the world gets me down,
the ray of sunshine,
which can reverse any frown.
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You wanted so much to be a star;
wide eyed you looked at what could be,
so you started on your climb.
Not looking back at the misery,
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To many the number thirteen
is a number to avoid and beware of,
add Friday in front of the number,
and you have a very scary day.
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