Nostalgia

I got off the bus and saw my school of past The street was still as a badly-taken photograph Steeped in deserted dark I wish it were lit by flash

The school sat behind me street lamps with their steadfast areas of bright illuminated intervals of roads past I was a figure cropped in Unbelonging

I sat still as a statue Unchiselled mimic of a noble creator of heroic pasts

for no movement could make me any less of a ghost to the place which had sealed me out