Magic Box He climbed into the wooden box, He made himself from an old tree. They chained it round, and set the locks. This was a magic trick, you see. They put the box into the hole, Not knowing he, still had the key. He claimed to be a human mole, Who in one hour, would be free. They left him there, and went away, Confident as they could be, Planning to return that day, And dig him out, if it need be. Time flew by, and they forgot, To follow through, and check if he, Escaped from down below, or not, While they were having English Tea. When he began to decompose, A seedling, tiny as can be, Happened to get in his nose; In time became a splendid tree. Some years went by, and then one day, A passing fellow saw that tree. He chopped it down, so sad to say, And did not even pay a fee. He used its wood to make a box, Strong and sturdy like the tree, Fitted it with heavy locks, Then climbed inside so he could see, If it would serve as treasure chest, To store his riches, gained in glee, Then be his place of final rest, When life was ended, as must be. Suddenly, the lid fell shut. And oh so unexpectedly, He heard the sound of snapping locks, Searched his pockets frantically. To no avail, he realized, The key he knew with certainty, Was not with him inside the box, But on the stump of the old tree. With time the box has turned to dust. His body rotted, naturally. From overhead a seed fell down, Landed on what was his knee. The years rolled on, the forest grew. The seed became a mighty tree. Then one day someone declared, "What a marvel of a tree. I'll cut it down, take it with me." "I'll saw it up and build a box, To hold my treasures", gloated he, "I'll fit it with some sturdy locks, And only I, will have the key." copyright 2009-2011 Wayne Hepburn