The Bottle Drops

We interrupt this program
Tragedy in Paris, killed in a car crash, Princess Diana of Wales.

Her fingers slip
The bottle drops
And falling in slow motion
The bottle hits
The stopper rolls across the bathroom floor.

And hits a wall
And with a click
It's like a tiny trapdoor opens.

A tiny hole, a metal box
A rusty hinge, a broken lock
Slowly crack the treasure open.

Cat's eye marble, diecast car
A pocket knife, a chocolate bar
A watch that's waiting to be wound
A treasure waiting to be found
I am Howard Carter stepping into Tutankhamun's tomb.

Each object in the box was a breadcrumb leading to a dazzling idea
Give back the box
Wherever the owner was, she would find him
And return his childhood.

I have to try
If he was touched, Amélie would become
An anonymous do-gooder
That would be her mission; anonymous good-deed-doer
If I did, I could be like Lady Di!