Our passports were written on our skin ...

I remember the time I spent in the invisible country - 

Those with me this morning had also breathed its air - 

We still carried with us the memory of its light - 

We'd crossed the frontier at the end of a long windowless corridor - 

There were no maps for what lay beyond - 

Our passports were written on our skin - 

17.35

Wednesday 11 October 2017

Queensmead Hall

Swanage

Dorset