my tiny tiny

I have a tiny tiny box in my bag that I keep, filled with rosemary roses and sweet memories. Apple seeds with a bit of lemon drips in my box.with beatiful colored edges like a mexican bride,bright red and yellow with drops of green. Rarely I open it now in order not to lose the scent that has been accumulating during the years and is inhabiting the space that is holding most of my memories and my hidden treasures. In this box I used to play hide and seek with my self. Many times I caught myself hiding in the midst of the flowers of that box beyond all the logic and all the numbers that dazzles my little brain. In my box I have hidden so long that I learnt the melodies of the silent notes and I embraced the colors of the rainbow glowing in the sky. I wrinkled the purple papers that for so long occupied my sketchbook and mixed with the roses making them my bed. I stayed so long in my box that now it is time to bury it and open a new one.