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.