Deja vu.

Déjà vu.

I have been here before
and seen these sights.
Along this shore
and yet before today.
I have never passed this way.

Whence comes this memory
which I hold so crystal clear,
that red house, those willow trees.
I know not from what source springs
my recognition of these things.

I only know it was mere chance
I chose to drive along this coast.
Was it fate or circumstance?
Which brought me here today to see
these scenes familiar to me.

Or did I live another life
before the one I’m living now
and did I have a loving wife
and friends and family?
Someone who might remember me.

But no, I must not think that way,
I can disturb no ones peace
I must drive on I cannot stay.
and yet, and yet I will recall
this as the strangest day of all.

Revised 24/12/2010

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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