Just a Music

I turn to the music, for I am his Figurine. High on the dresser he keeps me. A contrite smile on my face, Turning to the beautiful music. He takes care of me, I suppose. He never removes me from my careful place as I turn, turn, turn to the music. I watch as people come and go and Admire my simple beauty. Although he never lets them close. No dust, no speck cloud my longing. I am his figurine. No love, No smile, No song. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the the music. Just the music. music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music. Just the music.