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THE MUSIC BOX by Walter MallonTHE MUSIC BOX
It was her sorrow that brought forth my tears.
It must have been one of those emotional responses.
She touched my heart.
I rarely cry.
Her smile was as bright as the warm August sun.
She held her present tenderly in her little hands
as she walked down the steps,
her mother and father at her sides.
She tripped on the last step and fell.
She was not hurt, but her music box was broken.
Her eyes filled up with tears.
The music box was the best present she received for her birthday.
The music box was gold and yellow with a unicorn on top.
The unicorn's horn was painted in rainbow colors.
It played sweet music as the unicorn turned.
Round and round it went, her very own unicorn.
Her mother told her not to cry.
She would buy her a new one.
But the small child was not comforted.
She could not forgive herself for breaking the gift.
I could see the emptiness in her eyes.
Something so small could upset her like this.
This little girl is deep.
She is a delicate child.
Her father wiped away her flowing tears.
He saw the pain in his little girl's eyes.
He could not comfort her.
It burnt his soul.
I silently wished her dreams would come true.
But I knew the odds were against her.
The child is emotional, loving, and caring,
traits that are in short supply in this cruel world.
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