A box, a box, no ordinary box,
A box which can’t be tracked down by a fox.
It has shining gems on its lid,
Something loved by every kid.
What does it hold, you may ask,
It could hold gold, toys or even a mask.
What’s so special about this thing,
It may hold memories which can sing.
Can I get what I want, in this box?
You can get what you ask.
“Now where is this box?”, a girl said,
It’s a bit of imagination in your head.
Originally posted on A Young Writer’s Dream