The Treasure Box of Memories

Distant images of distant buildings
Encapsulate a part of me...distantly forgotten!

Cities are like boxes...
Inside of cities lay
        my thoughts,
        my dreams,
        my emotions,
        my drifting senses and ever-changing perspectives
        are all nestled inside this city box.

Deep Burgundy Wooden Box

These elements of who I am
smell something of sweet biscuits
rolled into chocolate;
sometimes they smell of bitter smog
black, choaky and unbearable;
sometimes they smell like the
pure, salty humid air.

My memories smell like the sweet juicy ripe yellow mangoes,
or seed watermelons with crows cawing in the background.
My memories smell of old, yellowed photos;
faded, grainy and unreachable.

These memories live in the box.
and when I close the box,
there is still a brilliant new
moment to live.
A glorious vision of the rising sun
over the mountains of butterflies still to
experience.

Today, the magic answers to my touch.
Today, the murmuring streams find their way
into the essence of who I am.
The treasure box stores my memories
So that I can go on living.

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin