wrapped in red shiny paper.
a white bow.
it's big enough to shake, so
i pick it up and do so.
i shake it, turn it, toss it in
the air
and catch it before it
hits the ground.
no bark, no meow, so i say
whew. but there is a slight
ticking.
what could it be, who left
it here in the dead of night.
who has sent me an early
present, there's no return
address
or card, or note to tell me
where it could be from.
i bring it in and set it under
the tree
with the others.
all ticking slowly. i wonder
who
could be my mysterious
and sweet sugar plum.
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