I once knew a girl
Who wasn’t so old,
Who went by the name of Pandora;
Her hair was a-twirl,
And her jawline was bold,
And her countenance jarred all who saw her.
For she was a child with orders to follow –
She practised today to be ready tomorrow.
So stern was her stare
As she marched round about,
And no-one had better ignore her.
She never would share
What protruded her pout
Or what epical labours now chore her.
For she was a child with burdens to carry –
She hefted them high, for she’d no time to tarry.
She cradled a box
With she firmly kept shut,
And she stroked it to sometimes assure her.
Her all-weather socks
Were so often a-strut
With that cask always ported before her.
For she was a child with secrets to ferry –
She warded them all, be they downcast or merry.
When asked who had asked,
Who requested her quest,
She might answer Mary or Flora;
And endlessly tasked
With this hallowed behest,
Her mission e’er onwardly bore her.
For she was a child with futures to wonder –
She gathered them up with the stars and the thunder.