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
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