I found a box today.
An old box, crammed in the dusty attic,
Covered in spider-webs and muck.
I tried to open it
But it was so rusty
I had to pry the lid up
And it creaked and squealed.
Dust rose in a cloud to meet my eyes.
I squinted, gazing into the box
And nearly fell back.
It was something I had lost
Long ago
Something I never thought
I would find again.
A shard of my past
A piece of the shattered memories
A broken fragment of my life.
It was as pure as new snow
And as lovely as an angel's wing.
It seemed so alien to me
Because I had forgotten it.
Though it was marred
Scarred by deformity
Wasted by misuse
Torn by exposure
Aged by time's decay
Rent by cruel words
Discarded like a used napkin
I saw it with new sight
And plucked it out
My hands trembling.
It felt so light in my palm.
I had never expected to see it again.
I had thought it was lost forever!
What was it, you ask?...
INNOCENCE