A Coming of Age

Just something I wrote whilst at my mother's house.

A coming of age, they continue to say,The smell of paint, polish and the essence of childhood decay,I hear the sounds of scraping, drilling,change.My whole life continues to rapidly rearrange.As I wander into what once was my isolation of innocence,I begin to realise it is no longer past, but present and soon to be future tense.
The End

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