|© Philip Bourland|
The package arrived at half past ten,
carried in by ten strong men;
the crate was made of solid oak,
the lock of iron and tin.
It was surprising in its shape and size,
but the oddest part was the hint of eyes;
they peeked at me through tiny slits,
and winked until I lost my wits.
I sat across the room and stared,
my folks would soon arrive,
and then we’d take the crate apart,
and greet this strange surprise.
© Rita Bourland
(this is the current posting in our outside display case in the park)
This is one of my very favorite poems. And the artist's rendering of the feeling is the greatest I can imagine. Thanks for the happiness from visiting your blog today!ReplyDelete