A paper box
Folded out of neat white sheet.
Precise, immaculate
Subtly intense
Placed in your palm
Pressed into hard wall

A white paper box is no play thing
It is mine to give
It has bends and folds and comforting tucks
It must be honoured by a gentle tap and soft air

Should it drop it would not race to floor
But slowly it falls
And faster it is picked up and cradled

Not by you
By the one who folds