Written in 7th grade.

Without actions or words,
My tool tells a story
Of romance and tragedy
Of pride and glory.

It�s rich voice
Sings so sweetly
In three octives,
It tells the story
And sounds very attractive.

It has a bridge,
Where stories have crossed.
It has a friend with white hair
That hopefully won�t get lost.

Under my chin it sits,
On my shoulder it rests.
The story sounds so beautiful,
I can feel it in my chest.