Poet in a Box

I keep a little box that I sometimes open
To unleash a tiny man of words
Greater than himself, yet quite often
Sharp-talked like a clash of swords.

To set off on a quest for reason
And make the world sing in more gentle tones,
This man with a slight tinge of humor
Tries to plant harmony in your homes.

Upright thinking, sheer sense and grasp
Of fancying beauty join its own nest,
He tries to set some love where it belongs
Which would by itself cover all the rest.

So I sit there beside this little box
Watching this strange spirit rightly claim
A kingdom where each of us could thrive
And never again, though still here, be the same.

I figure we all make choices. Sometimes though,
The path we think is ours does not please,
And darling ones still do fail at times
To prevent our world from a fall into sleaze,

But you see, there is a box we all can afford
To keep a little man in who can shine
As we step on a new crossroad each day;
We can open the box and feel just fine.

Oh yes, did I forget to mention?
- The box is tiny, but the relief so great.
Bed, drawer, cupboard, wherever you keep him,
Just mind you - he's sensitive to nonsense and hate.