In This Box Of Mine 2017 Tamara Thompson
She is put inside a box, it's of the smouldering kind,
It's where no one can see her, or sees her bright smile.
She lived a long life, one of the lessons gone wild,
So she's put in a box, a cheery treasure to hide.
In this box, it smells of mould and rotted rust,
hidden away, where her sharpness turns to shards of golden dust.
She rocks the box, gently and slow, with a rhythmic flow,
It's too dark to notice if anyone even knows.
She is tucked away in a corner,
to the left, on the highest shelf-
No one wants to hear her, the truth may linger out.
The words that she speaks are thoughtful with a grand mind of design,
With such shuttered surprise,
she speaks, then is quickly despised.
Folded corners, it keeps her silence,
they are too easy to fold-
“A success story they say?”
Though it is an underdog that makes a score.
“How could this happen, this rags to riches story?
Who wants to hear it, it's not of our glory.”
The story of a happy ending, where a chariot awaits,
Her dreams are then mastered,
Being boxed in, she meets her fate.
"Here she comes, so press your hands up to your ears
the screeching bellows of laughter, her cheer-
-dismiss it!”
Her humour then turns to wild irresistible rumours,
Turn your back then,
pretend she is wicked,
though you have no idea how her dreams build.
Her attractive wit is a nasty burden for some,
Her narrative, how she uses her tongue-
In haste, they yell;
"Quickly, quickly turn your backs away,
She is speaking again, it's time again to hate.
Get out the box, I can not dispel her laughter,
her smiles too much, her chatter too happy,
She can be awful, I think much too sappy,
Can't you see?
She is living happily ever after!”
She sits then, in this box, ready for her prance,
She will wait for her turn, while she waits, she starts to dance!
Her quick wit,
her tongue,
her elegance,
Formed in a box, she is just too much for some.
