in the mail!

 

 

  
 

When I was only seventeen,
I had my first romance;
I fell seriously in love,
At the High School Harvest Dance.

Johnny was a college man,
He was in his freshman year;
He wore a cashmere sports coat,
And was very debonair.

I felt so proud when we walked in,
All eyes had turned our way;
The corsage he had pinned on me …
I later pressed and put away.

The first and final dance,
Were both Vienna waltzes …
Played gently by the Harvest Band,
As if out of music-boxes.

Together we danced every dance,
There was not a one we missed;
And when Johnny later took me home,
At the front door … we stood and kissed.

Then Johnny led me in a waltz,
Across that cold front porch;
He hummed music in three-quarter time,
As we held each other for support.

Our love bloomed throughout that winter,
And blossomed fully in the spring;
When I graduated high school,
I was wearing Johnny’s ring.

Selective Service then called Johnny,
A small war was going on;
They said he was in A-one shape,
They shipped him out to Viet Nam.

Fate has a way of stepping in,
And Johnny disappeared;
The whole town wept in mourning,
And I, too, shed bitter tears.

With broken heart, I carried on,
What choice did I have?
I still cried and ached for him,
But time was a healing salve.

And, as the months rolled by,
And spring stretched on into fall …
It was on the second anniversary,
Of the High School Harvest Ball.

That a package was delivered,
Which was dirty, mussed, and torn;
Together with a "Sorry" note,
On the usual postal form.

I trembled as I opened it,
I recognized his hand;
The inner wrappings were secure,
So the contents were as planned.

First I heard a magic sound,
As I removed the object from its box;
And then what did my eyes behold,
But a dainty music-box.

Its bone china base … hand-painted,
With baby roses and green leaves;
And the music it was playing,
Was a waltz … pure Viennese.

A tiny female figure,
In a ballerina dress …
Turned in circles on its top,
In utter charmingness.

"La-la-la-la-la … la-la-la-la,"
The music-box played for me;
"La-la-la-la-la … la-la-la-la,"
The dancer danced for me to see.

I hugged the tiny music box,
And wiped away a tear;
Sweet Johnny’s final gift to me,
At last had made it here.

I placed it on my bedside table,
And at night before I’d sleep …
I’d watch the ballerina dance,
And she often made me weep.

Well, the years went on;  I married,
A man near Johnny’s ilk;
But I always kept his music-box,
In a container lined with silk.

One of the things my daughter liked,
When she was very young …
Was for me to take down Johnny’s box,
Wind it up and let it run.

And if she had trouble sleeping,
I would place the box beside her bed;
Then she would nod off sweetly,
With its gentle music in her head.

"La-la-la-la-la … la-la-la-la,"
Sometimes I’d stand there and I’d watch;
"La-la-la-la-la … la-la-la-la,"
As she fell asleep to Johnny’s box.

And my thoughts would then go back in time,
To that High School Harvest Dance;
And that final waltz on that cold front porch,
And a young girl’s first romance.

Share this touching story with a friend!
</em

>