When I was young we used to play

With sticks and stones and rocks.

But nothing, oh nothing, ever compared

To the fun we could have with a box.

Laugh and play we’d stay all day,

And we might even lose our socks.

Lost in space to a faraway place

Inside that plain old box.

Hooray today, we won a prize.

Not toys, or books or blocks.

No, we received the gift to believe

There’s magic in that box.

First a puppet show, then off we’d go

Down under chasing crocs.

Racing cars to the moon and stars

With just a simple box.

Then one day in a land far away

Where grownups race the clock.

Hoping to find what we left behind

In that torn and tattered box.

And, so it goes, that what life throws

Taunts and tempts and mocks.

Trying to keep the treasure we seek

Buried inside the box.

Old and frail our ship sets sail,

Battered by life’s hard knocks

On bended knee we make our plea

As we contemplate the box.

For in the end, please listen, my friend,

Life is a paradox.

If we should wait, no matter how great

Our dreams will stay in the box.