The rocking chair squeaks, <br />as it rocks to and fro. <br />An old man is dreaming, <br />of yesterdays many years ago. <br />He dreams of the woman, <br />who’d one day be his wife. <br />He sees how things used to be, <br />when he was a lad. <br />Reflects on the changes, <br />that have come and gone. <br />The peace and the quiet, <br />shattered by the society of busy feet. <br />The countryside that disappears, <br />at an alarming rate, <br />as developers seal each acres fate. <br />Gone is the fresh air, <br />everyone one used to breath. <br />Now clogged with fumes, <br />of petrol and diesel. <br />Oh, yesteryears, <br />where have you gone? <br />Lost to the winds, <br />like a small bird’s song. <br /> <br />7 Sept.1995<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/yesteryears/
