The Whispering Gearbox

Waddling back inside under the door draft seal to escape the cool evening breeze, I trotted straight to the quiet bottom shelf of the side table. Tucked beside a stack of coasters was a tiny clear acrylic music box with gleaming brass gears! Naturally, I couldn't resist wrapping both curved hands around its little winding crank. Bracing my rigid skirt against the polished wood, I gave the lever a firm, patient twist. Plink, chimmm—the revolving drum's tiny pins began plucking the steel comb, sending a silver, shimmering lullaby rippling across the dark floorboards! Doesn't every tiny brass barrel carry its own captured song waiting for someone to set it free?