A parcel appeared in the post today

A parcel appeared in the post today
Unexpected, and for me.
Wrapped right up, shiny and new.
Perfectly boxed in. Big, bright, white and clean.
Cold, bare feet in the hallway
approach with trepidation.
What the hell is this thing supposed to be?
I sit down in the kitchen.
The others are asleep.
This is more nerve wracking than is healthy.
I think I might need some tea -
A bit of radio four.
The orange handled scissors in the drawer
wait in anticipation.
And will me to retrieve them.
A glance at the box tells me its still there.
If only someone was up-
So I knew that this was real.
Gingerly run the blade around the box
And peel off the tape carefully,
Like an old tin of Roses.
This feels important, like exam results.
So I take a deep, long breath,
wiggle about on my seat.
And lift up the lid, like a chocolate box.
There were no blinding lights,
or billows of white smoke
Just an empty, pointless, bright white casket.
And I begin to wonder,
with a mounting frustration,
whether whatever it was in this box
has been nicked by the postman.
Or by some kid down the road.
But perhaps this parcel is a question,
Posed unvoiced, only to me.
So I must start asking myself -
What on earth should I be filling it with?