We Call This Game Thing in a Box

The sun didn’t shine. It was too wet to play
But I didn’t care, I was aging that day

I sat there with Rose. Sister glimmered with glee,
as we looked at the box (it was all we could see),
it loomed, monolith-ish, it lit up the room—
so pretty a specter to banish the gloom
of rainy day birthdays. Green ribbon, gold bow
I wanted to open, I wanted to know . . .

But Rose shook her head and said, “Sit, Sit, Sit, Sit.
Be patient, tonight will come in a short bit.”

And then, something went “bong.” Doorbell rang like a gong.
We looked and we saw them come in from the heat
Our sisters and brother, now this was a treat
And they said to me, “Rhyssa, now get off your seat,
Mama is ready, but you know Daddy’s ditzy,
he’s oblivious, so, if you want to get glitzy
you’ll have to go up and tell him to come down—
now hurry up, fast,” Siblings said with a frown.

They were right (as I knew). I went up. We came down.
Then they sang “Happy Birthday” and gave me a crown.
A crown with a red stone that looked like a tear—
and then Rose pushed and pulled me ‘til I stood quite near—

Forever ago, when I first saw the box,
All shiny and now, I’d imagined warm socks,
or books or new software or puzzles or games
but now, as I opened, those guesses seemed tame—
car keys or chocolate or even a ring
were less—what I dreamed would surpass any thing.

my heart, as I opened, was really quite sad—
but then, when I saw it, it turned into glad,
because, past the gold was a thing I would use—
my very own copy of all Dr. Seuss.

And Mama asked, “Dear, did you like what we gave?
We really were worried—see, the cover’s engraved.
Do you like it at all? Oh, I pray that you do.”

Tell me, what would you say if your mother asked you?

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