A box on my doorstep
it's a curious looking box
an odd shape; yet familiar
an interesting little box.

I bring it inside and study it further
I recognise it, but somehow it's different.

I shake it;
it rattles.

I tap it;
taps echo.

It won't open,
but yet I know the catch.
I pull, I tug, I rip,
but still the box is closed.
Slashes I have to put in,
but I know not to damage it;
It is special.

Now it sits in my room
this curious box
amongst the piles of parts
(which are the fuel for my inventions).
I fiddle with it often
each time coming closer to the solution.
I know how to solve this puzzle
yet somehow it eludes me.
So it sits under my bed
waiting for the day to come
that I might figure out its secret
and open new worlds to me.

Originally written May 1989