Red Box

This red box may hold all Or once opened the whole world might fall This red box is calling me No words, sounds, movements yet my curiosity rises increasingly Sitting, deep thoughts of what contents it may hold I reach for this box of mysteries that could be Pandora’s box or simply empty Thus textures ever so smooth White and green patterns rest within handles and its groove Irresistible it was, and now its time Lifting the lid, unzipping my future Cookies. Left over Christmas cookies