The Box for Petals

Dings of rhythm,
play about,
from a mysterious box,
full of red petals.

I look in amazement,
only to see that the spinner is still,
but yet music still fills the room.

The box plays a song,
unexplained,
and lovely,
however it leaves you feeling uneasy,
playing all on its own.

A hand,
inside,
from a dark angel,
mysterious and beautiful,
rotates a spinner,
making the box,
play.

--All Poems by Tia E
Copyrighted