In a distant land,
a long time ago,
a man took his children shopping in the Christmas snow.
His little girl bought paper,
ribbons and string.
Under the tree,
her gift to him was bigger than everything,
but when he opened it up, he could hardly speak.
The box was empty.
He scolded her until tears ran down her cheek.
How could you be so cruel and play this wicked trick,
said the man,
so upset he felt ill and sick.
But father, there's nothing missing.
I spent hours filling it with loving and kissing.
All of my heart, if ever we part,
it's my box of love.
Now it was the man's turn to cry.
He hugged her to his chest and told her that in all the world,
he loved her most and best.
A few months later,
in the tragic way things are,
the little girl
was killed running under a speeding car.
It was the worst time in his life for the man.
He thought his heart would break,
but when the pain became too much,
he had a kiss to
take.
Out of his magic secret place,
holding it softly to his face,
from his box of love.
The
years went by and the old man was living on his own,
but he never was lonely or sad whenever he was home.
He'd open up his gift and cherish the love that came out,
filling his soul with gratitude and cancelling all doubt.
She never really left him.
She was always there in the world around him,
breathing in the air,
smiling from heaven.
And sending from above,
kisses to him in his box of love.
In his box of love.