I swore I heard the music box play last night

The geometry of my life,
recognized
as the world comes
full circle.
It all goes back to that song,
the one from the musical,
that one I sang as a child.
How many music boxes,
surrounding the toy chest
my father built for me..
All playing one tune,
all wound up to the
fullest.
Years away from the girl
with a little, brown
 toy pony.
Now the women,
with cigarettes falling
from her skirt.
I cry like
the tot with bruised knees.
Somehow I'm still singing.
And its still,
"My Favorite Things."