My eyes flick from the window to the box,
again and again.
Could I get away with it?
This question runs through my mind
like a daring thief.
The box sits there, teasing me
taunting me….
‘You know you want to’, it whispers.
I know those whispers will get louder.
I’m tempted to open the box,
to peek,
just a glimpse.
But I know that will only make it worse.
I look out the window again,
light snowflakes gently fall
and so the question is answered.
The box, with all my garden seeds, will stay closed –
for now.
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