Not long ago, I wrote a review for the “Quirky Crate,” a rather subpar storage unit that has recently made its home in my dorm. While the crate has become an object of mockery and condescension, I nevertheless found myself contemplating its image. What follows is the result of these musings.
The Quirky Crate
Fresh new ideas come and go
Some innovative, some not so great.
Not one among them said no,
Thus born to us, was the crate.
You cannot choose your family
Predetermined, is your fate?
Who would think that destiny,
Would deliver, the quirky crate?
On the outside, it looks tough
Safe storage for your freight.
When you feel you’ve had enough,
Strong willed, stands the crate.
All’s fair in love and war.
No good reason for your hate.
Regarding the small eye-sore,
“I love you,” said the crate.
How to measure simple worth
Of an object, small and innate
Such is life on planet Earth.
With no concern, for the crate.
Let go of that with which you fear,
Usher in a fresh, clean slate.
The present time, relax it’s here,
With eyes wide open: thank you, crate.
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