358. Boxes

packed in boxes

i had left aside 

a lot of books

planning

that 

when i find time

i will release 

all these imprisoned stories

some day

patiently

all these books

sat waiting

for a long while

in hope 

of the right time

slowly 

their pages

started turning

that familiar brittle yellow

and then 

one day

i opened the boxes

and saw

that all the stories

had aged

so much so

that

they crumbled and fell apart

at the slightest touch

i

looked at them

and smiled

we seemed

to share a story

have not i

been sitting patiently

in wait for the right time

so I could

free the story in me

maybe

one day

when i open my eyes

i will find myself

worn by time

turning that brittle yellow

and my story tender and no longer relevant

and 

when someone

comes by

and touches me ever so slightly

with care

would i crumble 

and fall apart too?

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Translating 348.