A/N: I like to thank everyone who had read this story and reviewed it. I enjoyed reading all the reviews, but I'm sorry that's how the story will end. However, I did stumble across a poem called "The Old Music Box" by Rachel Field in a children's literature book. It's too much of a coincidence not to post it! Hope people will enjoy it. I love reading poems, novels, short stories, etc. and they are as much of an inspiration and connection to writing fan fics. I like this to be the proper ending of the Nutcracker Dream.

Nutcracker Dream: Epilogue

Miss Parker woke up to see the sun setting in the horizon. Her whole room was flooded in golden light. Her tired mind realized that she must have slept the entire day. Having that strange but enchanting dream was enough for her to stay in for Christmas day. The Centre business can go on for the next day. All she cared right now is to wear her silk robe, sit in her bed, and drink a large cup of hot chocolate with those tiny marshmallows floating on top of the foam.

Opening the music box once again to expose the tiny ballerina dancing to the musical tune of a time long ago for her, Miss Parker stared in awed at the fine detail. Before the music ended, Miss Parker noticed a tiny upturned corner of the velvet lining inside the box. Curious, she used her index finger to gently pry away the velvet. A small piece of paper that couldn't be bigger than the palm of her hand emerged from the hidden space. Her name was written neatly on top of the paper. It wasn't just her name, it was her first name. It made Miss Parker angry that he could just wrote it carelessly on paper she wondered if anyone could've seen it, but on the other hand, Miss Parker marveled at Jarod's special attention to address to her in her first name.

Holding her breath, she unfolded the piece of paper to reveal a poem that had been written in Jarod's unmistakable handwriting.

***It's not the tunes that it can play, But something else. I can never say Whether it's more like falling rain Far, far away, in France or Spain;

Or a hurrying brook, or the delicate din When a humming bird begins to spin Its rainbow wings; or the drone of bees, Or something that is none of these. But always under the tinkling part, You can hear it beating like a heart, Or the tickling of tiny fairy clocks Hidden away in the music box.***

"Jarod you took the words right out of my mouth." Murmuring to herself Miss Parker agreed reluctantly to his poem written for her.

Staring out the window Miss Parker spoke to the sky. Taking one of her favorite Nutcracker lines to make it her own, Miss Parker knew it was a nice compliment to Jarod's beautiful creation. "Dear, sweet Jarod, protector mine. Thou standest by me, and I'll be thine."

Miss Parker's voice wavered as happy tears rolled down her cheeks.