I woke up to a surprise
A secret box on the staircase
I did hesitate
To take it in the state
Fear rose up my spine
I felt like one full with wine
So concerned I felt
And nothing could relate
Who brought the parcel?
Was it for sale
Curiosity killed the cat
That made me squat
The parcel stood stolidly
Like a child so idly
Maybe I expected it to disappear
Magically as it did appear
The urge felt strong
I wanted untie the package's throng
Who brought the parcel?
Was it for sale?
Suddenly I heard a sound
It made me turn around
Did it come from the box?
This was a great hoax
The box shook an inch
Backwards I did flinch
Then like one obsessed, I ran like mad
To create much distance was my ad
Mysteries wasn't my game
I scampered away with shame
Who brought the parcel?
Was it for sale?
Call me any name you wish
It won't put food on my dish
Witches in the world exist
To be bewitched I resist
I refuse the box with its contents
Even if they are New Year presents
Knock on my door, I open
If presents you need I open
Who brought the parcel?
Was it for sale?
The Secret Box
By stbrians | Churning Poetry | 31 Dec 2022
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Churning Poetry
Poetry is the spice of the soul. A poet is an emotional person. He creates love, hate, worry etc. A poet is a mind reader. He knows your thoughts.
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