When I was little
You showed me your music box.
The beautiful heart shaped one
With the intricate, golden designs
And the little bird singing in a tree.
And on the inside you wrote "swan lake"
So you'd always know
What the little bird was singing.
And on the inside you kept three wedding rings.
From three marriages
Long since passed.
The first was your mothers first husband: your biological father.
The man who died when you were young.
You said you never knew him, but your mother loved him.
The second was your mothers second husband: your real father.
The man who raised you from childhood.
You said he died of a heart attack, and your mother never wanted to remarry after him.
The third was your own: the ring of the father of your children.
The man who cheated on you with your coworker.
You said you couldn't throw it away because you had loved him once.
I was so fascinated by that music box.
You promised I could have it one day
"When I'm gone, it's yours" you promised.
As I sit here in my home
And listen to the little bird
Whistle swan lake
Over and over
I did not have it.