The Corner

I have been dwelling in a corner of myself
for a long time
Only let the light in when I need it
I walk out of it too only when I need it
Then there was the old wind friend coming by
persuading me to let it through the corner
said the memory of the good old times
would come through without I am knowing it
I punched a few holes
and the memory of wind did come through
Before I know it
the wind becomes part of my corner
Not sure I could hide in my corner any more
lights and winds of good old time come at ease
so I am soaking in them