Three Takes on a Music Box

I bought one of my daughters a music box today - it got me thinking and inevitably some ideas resulted:

Music Box Dancer

It's just some flimsy craftwood,
With a plastic figure inside,
It has that discordant music,
Of which I can't abide.
It plays on with no respite,
The same tune without pause,
Remarkable in its unremarkableness,
Interesting in that it bores.
But to my daughter it's a fairy princess,
Asked out to the ball,
The women all comment on her beauty,
And the men - see enchants them all.
She twirls in place so effortlessly,
At one with the palace band,
She captivates all that see her,
She has a power we don't understand.
For to me it's just a music box,
To my daughter it means a lot,
For she still can dream and wonder,
Which I skill I've forgot.
So, together we watch the dancer,
She gently takes my hand,
I forget my pain and cynicism,
And begin to understand.

The Music Box

She lay on the floor for hours,
The new music box held her gaze,
She could watch and listen raptly,
And do this for many days.
She wished she was the dancer,
So she trained every day,
She trained while kids watched tele,
She trained while outside they played.
She kept the music box to remind her,
Of the power of such grace,
She conversed with the figure often,
A longing etched in her face.
She trained under many teachers,
For the best she danced,
Until they could teach her nothing,
For she was too advanced.
Now she dances in schools and halls,
Shunning pretentious places,
And the children look up in wonder,
With the same longing in their faces.

Dancer in a Box

The music box was played often,
It was the highlight of her day,
To lose herself in fantasy,
To dream a bit through play.
But one day there was a note inside,
"Dear friend, I have to go,
I'm sorry to leave on such short notice,
But I'm in love with GI Joe."