My mind is filled with memories
of times gone by
memories some innocent, some hurtful,
some filled with laughter
and some how I used to cry.
There are faces
some of which I do not know
strangers, shadows of the past.
Who are they
and why do they haunt the present me?
9 March 1983
Authors note:
I wrote this poem using the title of a novel I was writing at the time.
David Harris
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/early-works-shadows-of-the-past/
