“If there’s a next time just don’t open the box.”
Pandora finished her mirror work for the day
She looked over at the pile of boxes left
In the corner of her loft, and sighed
For a hundred years she managed to resist
The scroll work invited closer examination
Delicately carved wooden curiosities
Polished grains and knots
Brass fastenings intricately wrought
How could she not take a tiny peek within
To unveil a mystery
To satisfy her hunger for the truth
She traced the scores and patterns
Listening to the music lifted from the trails
She wondered at the tiny hinges
Admired little button nails
She worked the catch to see if it would move
And when it did she gasped
She didn’t mean to open it
Didn’t mean to pry
She meant only to refasten and
Set the box aside
As her finger moved the dainty hook
Towards the waiting eye
The hook slipped past without a catch
And up the lid did bump
For a moment, when it dropped back down
She fumbled hook to eye
She thought perhaps she managed
Not to loose the contents, then
She felt a pang of sorrow
Pandora knew the world would change
It was time to move again
Words echoing in mind
“Just don’t open the box. How hard is that?”
Each precious box beguiled her
Intoxicatingly called her
She knew that down the road someday
She would falter
Curse the gods who would impart such
Dangerous allure
As the boxes full of woes given care over to her
