THE MUSIC BOX FORGOT ITS SONG

THE MUSIC BOX FORGOT ITS SONG

I found the little music box,
Beneath the attic stair,
Its ballerina waited still,
As if you left her there.

I turned the key with shaking hands,
The tune began to play,
The same one that you danced to,
Before you went away.

Your ribbon rested by its side,
Still tied into a bow,
I touched the faded velvet,
And felt the years let go.

You were a child of seven then,
With sunlight in your hair,
You danced across the wooden floor,
Without a single care.

Then winter came without a knock,
And stole your breath from me,
It left your tiny bedroom door,
Wide open cruelly.

I packed your toys inside a box,
But kept your little bear,
Because at night I needed him,
When you were no longer there.

The music slowed, the dancer shook,
Then stopped upon one toe,
As if she knew the child she loved,
Had nowhere left to go.

I begged the tune to start again,
I turned the silver key,
But broken things cannot return,
No matter what we plea.

One tear fell on the dusty lid,
Another followed fast,
Until the music box was soaked,
In memories of the past.

I left it open in the dark,
The dancer standing strong,
Guarding the ghost of one small girl,
Who never heard her song.