Categories
poems Thoughts

music box

I once had a music box, a music box without sound. 
Not one note it had, for its gears were rusted round.
Some told me it was worthless, and that it was a waste of time,
But I believe it’s special, more special than my rhymes.

The music box’s key was lost somewhere
Because it was moved from here to there.
It came from a land far, far away
Where the sun’s rays touched the sea all day.

The music box was a gift on a special day
When couples gathered; on the grass they lay.
It once played soft music through the summer air
But now the music faded from wear.

Rain and sun, and rain again
Was the fate of this faithful friend
And soon it was passed on to my hands
The music box with the beauty of all lands.

Alas, the rust took all of its shine
The shine worn down by cunning time.
The silent music I had always heard
While behind me sang the birds.

Though I had never heard its sweet melody
I am very sure that it was lovely.
But now, though I hear its silent singing,
It leads me to white dresses and bells ringing.

For the silent music there was no cure
To revive its music, beautiful and pure.
But now, I hold it as a gift of love,
Whose giver is now in heaven above.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Hello everyone! It’s been such a long time.

Anyway, this poem’s first lines came into my head when my sister did some poking around in my stuff, most imporantly the special jewelry chest that was given to me by my grandmother.

Special? Yes.

This jewelry case has one cabinet on the right, and four drawers on the left. It is maroon-colored, and on the bottom there is a note. This note came from my late grandfather, given to my grandmother on Valentine’s Day.

On the 21st of April, just a few days ago, it was my grandfather’s fifth anniversary.

This jewelry chest had a small music box that I discovered last year, at around November. When I took the compartment apart (being some bored idiot), I found that it didn’t work. It was all rusty, and covered in cobwebs. Then, because I was in a thoughtful mood that day, I decided to think about that day when it was given to my grandmother. As nearly all my ideas turn into a story, song, or poem, I wrote my ideas down and it turned into this.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

I will publish a series of number-titled poems soon! I missed this blog so much!