Poem: Strange Surprise

© Philip Bourland

Strange Surprise

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)