A box

A box sits in the corner
A box is waiting empty
Of thoughts, empty
To be filled, waiting
But time is slow moving
To take by surprise anyone
Who trusts it
A box sits empty
In a crowded corner, crowded
With boxes, time comes and goes
And crush them
Into fragments of memory
A memory is all that remains
Of them.

April 30, 2018

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Psychology, Reflections and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s