Ode to a Box, upon Moving

Oh noble Box of mighty tree’s descent,
Grant me again your organizing skills.
My underpaid and madcap soul laments,
And in the basement you wait to be filled.

With you and yourn I trust my worldly goods,
Faithful friends and worthy, come what may.
We’ll set off soon ‘cross yonder hill and wood
So I can find a nicer place to stay.

Protecting junk that should have been yard sold,
Lid awash in scribbled Sharpie black,
Crammed with clearly more than you should hold,
Ride shotgun proud and brace for railroad tracks.

Though some may wish to think outside you,
None make square look half as hip as you do.