My Little Music Box.

Della, you're like a music box to me...
But I won't hear you play, 'cause I lost the key.
I lost the key, in a river of red....
Rust has consumed it, and lost the tune in my head.

You'll always be sleeping,
like I sang you that way....
If I focus on that,
I can end my longer days.

I'll swear that I feel you,
like you're laying in my arms.
Brush the hair out of your eyes,
keep you safe from any harm.

Della, this antiquated sorrow,
it never seems to fade....
The gut-wrenching tremors,
at the mention of your name.

Your name plays like a melody,
composed with the softest notes.
I take the pride of compiling the score,
looking at the beauty of the five letters I wrote.

I wrote them on that scrap of paper,
that I tore out of the phone book....
My eyes feasted on the marvel,
beauty, in truth, it overtook.

And I swear I heard your name,
it was whispered by the saints.
I etched it with finality,
on that stone above your grave....

Some nights, I swear it rings....
It will swim right through my ears....
Hearing angels sing it,
brings my eyes to tears.

I swear it to you, Della....
One day I'll find that key.
I'll unlock that music box,
bringing your name to me.