Jewelry Box

A little kid at the store,

Running around looking for something more.

She’s with her grandmother,

It’s a girl’s day out.

She sees it from a far,

And eyeballs it the whole trip.

The box sits there,

Like it’s waiting for her.

Girlish and squeamish she begs to see it closer,

And then she turns and turns the knob until the ballerina is twirling,

And a soft orchestral tune is played.

Grandma knows she’s a dancer,

And knows that this was what every little girl wanted.

A jewelry box to call her own,

With a mirror to see her pretty reflection,

And a clock to tell time.

Insides of red velvet,

 And dark wood.

“It’s perfect”

The little girl whines.

Finally she gets the box,

And brings it back home.

Grandpas curious,

So he turns the knob but it breaks.

Tears hit the floor,

A little girls heart is broken.

Not all is lost,

For the next day grandma has a new box,

The same,

But repaired.

The knob is turned once again,

And there is the beautiful music sounding of Beethoven.

It’s 5 years later, but the ballerina won’t twirl,

She’s broken.

She’s fallen.

Grandma isn’t here to get it repaired again.

The clock doesn’t work,

It’s made up its own time.

Maybe one day the ballerina will twirl to the beautiful music again,

For now she is broken,

And she cannot be made the same.