"The music box"
by: WhiteShepherd

"Sitting by a brown box sifting through my grandmothers old memories,
"a old broken music box is surrendered to my hand.

"Old cracked and entrusted with dreams,
"despite it's age has refused to give up it's song.

"A song heard and dreamed on over through time,
"too once more to play in my hand and life to be.

"The moment is bonding to silence,
"as each metal chime breaks the quiet air.

"Each chime's tearful cry alone and afar,
"till it is joined by another to ease the heart.

"My mind wanders back through time,
"watching the play of the old join the new.

"Women and men caught in the slow dance of love,
"each looking for their music and dreams in the other.

"They spin with the dance holding a dream,
"and listen to the music in each others hearts and breathe.

"To only once again watch the music slow to an end,
"as the dance comes to a stop.

"My hand returns the music box safely,
"back to the dreams of the brown box.
"I pause and wonder when and if I shall dance,
"and I listen for a familiar tune of an old music box.