1st Poem for Creative Writing

I grab the golden ticket key,
And if I’m at home
I hurry up the street.
And if I’m at school
I hurry down the stairs
To check that box of possibilities.

At home, I dash along the sidewalk,
With my dog at my feet.
In Utah I dash down the hall,
Sometimes with no shoes.
But in both states
I’m rushing to check that box.

Will there be anything?
A crisp, white square of happiness
With my name in the center?
Or a picture with “miss you”
Scrawled on the back?
Something from someone important?

I jam the key into the lock.
It turns, opens and
I look with expectations,
So many hopeful expectations,
…at nothing
Just a black hole of despair.

Back up the street
Or back up the stairs
No longer hurrying,
Rushing, anticipating.
I hate it when that box
Holds absolutely nothing.