Jack-In-The-Box Poem by Stan Petrovich

Hi, I'm God. It's dark, lonely and quiet in here, now,
On this dusty shelf.
No more children to come and twist me to life;
I used to thrive at that,
Popping out and making them laugh!
Now, nothing.

But yesterday, something-
A mouse came by and straddled my handle:
If only it he had pulled down...
I could have given it a terrible fright.
But now the silent night;
And my red and white striped shirt keeps me not a bit warm.
I long for the sun to flow on the shelf;
I wish I could play with myself,
But I am without hands;
Only the hope to be seen by a passing boy,
Who will be curious,
Who will think I'm only a toy.