My Ballerina

 

My Ballerina

When I was just a little girl

With saucy curls and licorice dreams,

I got a gift one Christmas

Of a tiny music box.

 

Whenever I was sad

Or thought I had no friend,

I could wind it up and lift the lid

To see the ballerina dance.

 

I don't know why I saved it

All through these many years,

As I left my childhood far behind

And moved from place to place.

 

But I found the box last week

On a dusty attic shelf,

The cover was all faded,

The key was hard to turn.

 

I lifted up the lid to find

My friend, like me, had aged.

Her skirt, no longer crisp,

Had changed from pink to white.

 

Her little face was streaked and cracked,

But when she heard that tinny tune,

I found she hadn't changed at all,

And my ballerina danced!