Poetic Thoughts

The poetic thoughts languidly fall like a spent 88 shell(circa 2nd World War)used as desktop tidy;felt-tips pencils,ruler,fine liner:.5,
other sort paraphernalia on the 80s teenage lad's homework space.What happened to that lad 1983?31 yrs ago?
A 45 yr old I am now(circa 2014)remembering,just realising that the shell was part of a death thing;discoloured brass, hollow.