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The Magic Box: a poem

I will put in my magic box:
The screech of seagulls at five in the morning,
Shivers, cold, death and goose bumps
And never let the lid loose.
Grumps.

And a genie to make all my wishes come true.
I will put in my magic box;
The kicking, biting, hitting, punching that naughty children do,
A fried egg sandwich in the morning; yolk yellow as the rising sun.
And ssshhhhhhhhhhh
Seven secrets never to be told.

I will put in my magic box;
Pandora and all the lost hope,
A shiny pair of Airwears to stomp the streets in,
A call to Patrick, where are you?
The whispered nothings
Of loves
long
forgotten.

This poem was written by people attending a Have A Go session at All Saints Community Project.