Ode to the Tailor

The Porcelain figurine sat,
Atop a spool of glass thread.
Scissors at his side, as he read.
Ere his first note, all quiet in the wrapping.

My first music box,
Long since shattered
Much like my youth,
Waited patiently for it's turn.

I turned the base.
Wound it tenderly.
Set it down.
As the spool turned, it played:

"If I were a Rich Man"

And still, to this day, I find myself
humming to that long lost music box.

If you would like to know more about this poem please visit Random Musings.


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Last modified: 5/04/2020