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

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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