Violin
My Observational poem
By: Jocelyn M.
Mrs. Meadows
English
8B
Violin
A light, Chesnutt glow of the body, long and slim. An eccentric shape, curved in the middle, like a ladies physique. It’s the runt of its’ litter. An anomaly, a hefty build made of hickory, maple, and spruce. Sturdy yet petite.
Elongated strings of silver flowing elegantly over a thin, black board; coupled with a long, baton like stick, sliding gracefully over strings of silver, an unbeatable duo.
It sings a soft song, sweet and sad. An everlasting memory in everyone’s ears. Resonating within the mind and brings tears to the eyes.
The number one pick for the melody. You’re never amiss when you pair it with a Piano, a “Match Made in Heaven.” A Cello, a Bass, a Viola, it’s not a picky partner.
Grab your friends and play a symphony, a concerto, simply stupendous in a quartet, “Quadruple the fun!” Never a hassle to get around. No lifting, no heaving, no carrying. Light as a feather. Just grab its’ case and go.
And Italian make, born and bread. My favorite instrument.
I remember it like hay-day, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, in the small, cramped room. Thrust into the masses, joining in on the Hymns. Creating a synchronized, well-organized arrangement of sweet, sweet sound.
Together, as we strum harmoniously to the music.
And I remember that concert, up on the stage, dressed in our finest silks, hair styled to perfection, mouths beaming and eyes gleaming. Backs straight and heads held high, instruments cradled in our embrace, as we waited for that signal.
Silence draped over the enormous auditorium as we played, together. Playing to the movements of the silver baton, flowing through the air like silk.
Commanding our bows to the rhythm of the music.
A memory that I’ll never forget: my body moving to the rhythm. Rocking side to side in tune, like a baby’s cradle. Music filling my ears to the brim as I played along with everyone. My focus solely on the dot speckled sheets in front if me, the world around me, disappearing. The music stops, and we bow to our audience
the sound of a thousand hands clapping, voices cheering.
I want it to stay with me. Reliving those moments over and over again, like a never-ending dream, every time I pick up my violin, with my back straight and head held high, my Violin cradled into my embrace
strumming to the tempo of the music.
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