Like an old torn page
stuffed into the back of a drawer,
or an unused box saved
and thrown atop a shelf
I have stacked some memories
and let myself forget them.
One day when I open that drawer
my hand shall find that page
that box may fall in my sight
my touch will lift the dust of age
and I shall see the cracks and yellow,
line those many names
like lost and faded faces
that smile through broken Frames