Chest of Childhood

A chest of childhood,

Lies in my attic.

Locked up day and night,

To keep it far, far away from the heart.

But every once and a while,

My heart yearns

For that innocence,

And every once and a while,

I seek a crevice to let my heart free.

I climb up the creaking stairs of past,

Turn the knob of the barrier,

And sit.

And sit.

As I inhale the sweet scent of faded wood,

And watch the sun glittering on the floor.

The light dances on the chest,

On the lock.

And I sit.