Apr 7, 2021
1 min read
Right Of Passage
A Poem
The sunlight through the window was the richest shade of gold,
Never in my life have I felt both so young and so old.
Even though I left before I had the chance to stay,
That morning is the mould in which my fragile soul found shape.
Grey was the concrete of the pavement where I waited
For the car to take me back to the…
