What’s left to me of my mind, I keep in a matchbox. Sometimes, I like to shake it, hear it rattle around. Mostly, I don’t think about it. I don’t remember exactly what happened. I took the matches out to make room, but my mind was bigger once. I don’t think most people keep their minds in little matchboxes, though I wonder if most people keep their minds at all. Mine is kept, enclosed; it does not wander. If it ever grows, I shall keep it in a shoebox. Yes, I hope one day it fits nicely into a shoebox.
Drabble: Kept Safe
Tale Told 