The Music Box

It was given to me as a gift;
A very long time ago.
There's a place on top with a frame;
Where a pretty picture could go.

When it's opened up, it plays a tune;
I never paid much attention.
I'd even forgotten the name of the tune;
Was never really mentioned.

Many years after I got it;
My Father had passed away.
I wasn't very close to him;
And the box had been put away.

I felt bad after he had gone;
That we were never close.
It wasn't that I didn't want to be;
It was just what he had chose.

One day I was going through some things;
And found a picture of him and me.
It was taken when I was little;
And I was perched upon his knee.

I took that picture and had it enlarged;
Even though it's black and white.
It was pretty old and the edges were frayed;
But, to me it worked just right.

I put that picture on the top of the box;
And now I dance with it and twirl.
The name of the tune that it plays as I dance;
Is "Daddy's Little Girl".

Ironic how things work out sometimes;
He had never had time for me.
Now we dance whenever I want;
As I'm perched upon his knee.

© Betty Hawkins 2003
(All Rights Reserved)