Early Works - Strangers Poem by David Harris

Here we stand to be counted
on life’s lonely road
fleeting strangers in times
of troubles and woe.
Strangers for moments
that pass so quickly by.
Friends are not easily
found in troubled times.

But here we are together
lonely except for life
outcasts of misunderstanding
that develop in our mind.
Children in our own world
finding happier times.
Disillusioned with people
that surround us daily.

Old is just a word
we pretend not to hear,
young is what we are
so why should we fear?
Darkness is only nighttime
hour when we sleep.
Daylight is for living
so why do we weep.


17 October 1979