Hide us in that box,
That rectangle of a box,
Our little box of threads and needles.
Stitch us on the seams, our dreams.
Sink us under your sole, our voices.
Hide us in that barrels, our troubles.
Distill our spirits, wash us pure.
Age us,
Open our souls after the war.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
