A Key Poem by kara towe
A Key
There is a tattered wooden hedged box.
Small hands hold it open in the sunlight.
Inside a chimed melody.
A little ballerina twirls in front of a diamond shaped mirror.
Every detail of her is in view.
Curiously, watching.
Curiosity turns into joy.
Sitting alone, in the sun, the moment is magical.
The ballerina and music stop, the heart sinks.
Turning the box to see every angle, suddenly there is a key!
Turning the key.
Small hands hold it open in the sunlight.
Inside a chimed melody.
A little ballerina twirls in front of a diamond shaped mirror.
Every detail of her is in view.
Curiously watching.
Curiosity turns into joy.
Sitting alone, in the sun, the moment is magical.
One of my few treasured memories when I was four, living with my mother at Elmore street in La CA. I found a small old music box, and I sat out on the drive way playing it over and over again. All my troubles briefly were melted away. Funny how a child can find joy in such little things, wish I could still do that. Don't we all. Thanks for reading
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 5:59:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Definitely i would agree most wish for those moments where everything else fades away... Harder to come by though as things change... Wonderful shared memory, - Great thoughts... Thanks for sharing.