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Poem

I ordered, one day, a cheery little music box
It arrived, and my husband wasn't too fond
It was the most darling music box I'd ever seen
Its peach body making rhythmic sounds, a glass swan atop, sitting like a queen

Sweet and soothing, it filled the house with joy
Each day, grew more fond, as I played with my little toy
Unbeaten its voice, dances like magic, its movement graceful and swift
Never bored, never tired it made me, my most precious gift

I dropped it, one day, the swan's wings, they broke a little
It continued to work just fine, save for the occasional fiddle
I kept it by my bedside, as it played all the sweet tones I admired
I let it play and play and play until I got annoyingly tired
Its music was hell to ears, its magic, now impaired
The gift we got was defective, how do I get this replaced or repaired?

Alas, frustrated, my husband and I buried it in the backyard
Yet its music dare not stop, night after nights as its screams catch us off guard
Burying couldn't get it rid, so we burned it until the music stops 
Screeching and screaming, the petty music box, we left its glass body to rot

A gift was just a gift after all, replaceable, fleeting
Slowly and slowly, the music died down, its heart no longer beating
My most precious gift, whose departure had left us haunted
My child was a gift to me, just not the one I wanted

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