Broken Music Box Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

Love is as rare as the pyramids in the mist,
as deep as the ocean which has never been kissed,
as old as father time, as sweet as morning dew,
and as cold as the wind that blows outside of you.

Yet, your eyes are as cold as ice upon the glass,
cold as the wintry frost that cloaks the dying grass.
You stare out the window - empty heart, empty tears,
empty glass of nothingness to toast to the years.

I lose myself in sadness, tears too deep to number.
Heartache has risen from its once silent slumber.
Tears slip out of perspective, heart falls to the ground.
Autumn leaves sweep the soul, a silent few around.

This is our goodbye, the music box is broken -
splinters from our shattered dreams - our only token.
I have no need of songs, the ones I used to know.
I lose myself in the void, nowhere left to go.

I fall up lonely street, heartache my only friend.
I try to block the songs which echo on the wind.
Red velvet tattered, shadows in my caverned eyes.
Swift the seasons roll with dark clouds across the skies.

I walk without a hope, without a song at heart.
I've missed you from the moment we first fell apart.
I carry with me the little pieces of wood,
sweet reminders of a past that once seemed so good.

A bright patch of sunlight, but it quick fades away.
I swore it was you who walked by the other day.
Yet, it was but a dream - my wish for you alone.
When I turned to speak to you, I was on my own.

Wandering with memories, in the dark of night,
I follow what is hopeless, striving for the light.
Yet, I know that you are gone down the halls of time.
I know that you couldn't care, wouldn't give a dime.

And love's last song will never be sung nor spoken.
The heart has been shattered, the music box broken.
There is no joy left and no happiness at all.
One by one, the silent flakes of snow start to fall.