Coming and going from room to room

I rummaged through drawers for story-books

and found nothing but pairs of worn-out socks,

broken chessmen and elephant castles, wooden dreams

while the nine-year-o[d sat patiently, sullenly

tapping his fingers on the board,

waiting for me to flip out a tale,

while I was lost in his childhood tales.

I kept getting out of the heaps of toys he discarded

the little bits of lessons learnt...

And the longer I took to come out of his past

the faster he grew in understanding me.

I regressed as he grew in years

as he watched me take my time coming out of his room;

his anger giving way to compassion,

sullenness giving way to a mellow forbearance.

That half-hour's time was an age for both.

17 Sept. 2015.