The Magic Box

I will put in the box the splash of a dolphin diving, the nudge of a puppy's wet nose on my face, the scent of a wild rose growing in the meadow. I will put in the box a tickle from my mum, the creamy taste of homemade soup, the last call from a captured whale. I will put in the box the swirling feeling of a snail's shell, the fun of zoobaloodaloola, the excitement of a game of four square. I will put in the box a memory from my childhood, the first time a baby tiger opens its eyes, the taste of strawberry ice cream on a sizzling hot day. I will put in the box the sound of a baby lion doing its first roar, a sip of hot lemonade on a cold day, the smell of a blossoming sunflower. I will put in the box the first squeal of my cat, the sadness of blood, a hot snowball. I will put in the box a tenth planet with no sun, the happiness of Christmas Day, a dark blue shadow reflecting off a mirror. I will put in the box the tiny tip of an ant's antennae, the whistling of a pink bird, the friendships of Room 15. My box is woven out of writhing snakes and lined with golden love. It has riddles in the corners and silver twigs as bindings. I will read in my box. I will get lost in the story. The words will draw me in and I will disappear into the book.