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