Wooden Music Box

leaving it alone.
"ill come back to you later,"
i say with a smirk,
"when i feel like it."
as i walk away from the old, the worn.
"i want to see what i can do!"
i exclaim, as i test my abilities.
"so surprising how long ive gone
without knowing what im capable of!"
flaunting and taunting creates some sense of lost self assurance.
"look at what i have made!
look at what i have done!
isnt it beatiful!
more beautiful than even you!"
as i dance and i prance,
pride seeps deeper
as the old, the worn
sits collecting dust on the shelf.
"its been so long since ive used you, hasnt it?"
i declair with great enthusiasm,
as i do a finishing spin.
the dull music playing in the background,
notes now off-key and flat to the naked ear.
"youre getting old, my dear! youre fading so quickly"
i say as i waltz over to take a look
at what once was.
"my! how you are decaying! i cant even touch you,
or attempt to fix you! you are far too far gone!"
i dance towards the opposite side of the room,
so much larger now, and refurnished.
"do you like it, old one?
is it pleasing to you?
is it beautiful to your old, worn eyes?"
i come slowly closer to the once-beauty
i had taken pride in so long ago.
"i wish you could feel the way that i feel!
the brightness in this room now!
the beauty! the excitement!
but you look so sad, and so old, and so worn.
i have not heard you sing happily for decades!
join me in joy! and in beauty abounding!
for i have found peace and intruiging surroundings!"
but the old, the worn, does not answer.
so i put on my gloves, with the pretty white sequins,
and i take hold of the treasure oh so gently;
"little once-beauty, now so old and worn,
i must do what i must. youre no good to me now."
i take to the garden a once-priceless wooden box,
and burry the preciousness i once held so dear.
without regret, or worry, i cover the soil,
no attempt to hide traces is given at all.
and as i dance away, skipping, and twirling in oblivion,
i am singing the song the little box used to play.