box of photos

you find a box
of photos. random
stacks, crimped
some stuck
to one another.
faces and arms,
places you've
been to.
faces still young.
they never
made it
to the album.
things changed.
cameras
and computers
changed.
your life
changed.
but the box
held them
like folded arms
for you to find
again when searching
for something
else in the closet,
a flashlight
perhaps, or a
hammer, but
not them.