passage (traffic, movement, transit, death)

I used to be a boy and my kingdom was day.
The world would come to me in lightning bolts: my mother
whispering and the steps military
of my father climbing the staircase.
In my room, looked after a wolf and a lamb
and a smell of camphor
went up even on afternoons turning to smoke.
They were lovely days.
Fights also, sometimes, and doors and barks.
Like this and all, I was a boy and on the table
lit my glass of milk like a candle.
Suddenly the night fell on my forehead
and I was a man barefoot in middle of path.