Alice’s Box

Posted: February 8, 2012 in Uncategorized

Alice liked her little box
Cosy, comfy, cushions, quaint
She sat up there in dress and socks
And all day sit and paint
Her thoughts would spill onto the walls
In shades and shapes and sound
People, animals, birds and bees
And all sorts of things profound
Outside the box was dangerous things
She’d seen in her picture-books
Brown buildings made of Routine
Pain and Compromise filled the brook
Dog-eared Regrets in the Library
Well-dressed Boredom in the mall
The fruits laden on the trees, repulsed
Towards the clouds, would fall
Alice would never ever leave her box
She’d swear to herself each night
But what to do, the growing child
Was growing too big, despite
Her feet were getting bigger
Too big for her little socks
Her limbs were growing longer
Too long for Alice’s box
I don’t want to leave my little box
She’d cry to no one there
Here it’s cosy, comfy, cushions, quaint
There it’s ugly and unfair
‘Don’t be a stupid baby’
Her paintings taunted one desperate day
‘It’s not so bad outside your box
Now it’s time to go, I say’
‘It’s not that outside aint so bad’
Yelled Alice with a pout
‘It’s that it aint great like my box’
– Before she was pushed out!

In lieu of these being the last few hours of my 21st year! Instead of whining about growing old this year I thought I’d write a metaphorical poem (been eons since I wrote one that rhymed). See what I did there?

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Comments
  1. Angel says:

    Awesome metaphors! And happy birthday!

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