A Box Left Undisturbed (a partial ballade)

a box left undisturbed
alone in the attic for decades
dust coats the floorboard
of which it shades
please, stop this charade
just open it, and reveal
I'll wait to watch as the treasure cascades
onto the floor, gold would be ideal

no? fine, in first, I'll wade
to unveil the concealed
quick, come to my aid
and look upon, surprise, the spinning wheel

having taken inventory (terza rima)

One day, not so long ago,
I told my story.
But, there was so much I didn't know.

Now, as I take my inventory,
as you must do, now and again,
if only an exploratory

act; I wrote it all down with my quill pen
the power I was relinquishing
but just another mess and then,

I found something quite distinguishing;
a darkness inside me I had thought I'd abandoned.
All confidence of mine now extinguishing.

My wounds bandaged,
I scooped up my grief
and, well, managed

to quell disbelief
and remember to blink, just twice,
to experience some relief.

I took all the advice,
but it all fell flat.
It wasn’t worth the asking price.

I put on my hard hat,
placed my fears aside, at last,
and prepared for combat.

I almost wished I hadn't asked-
oh dear, I almost cried-
realizing that it all wouldn't be fixed so fast,

nor will it break, even if tried.
So, straight on I looked at my darkness,
"Fine, let's talk," I clarified.