Fingertips

I can conquer anything - 

Any struggle, any strife,

All I need to do it

is my fingers and my life.

 

Performing is my passion.

Drawing is my dream.

I do this each and every day,

exhausting as it may seem.

 

The violin was first,

picked up when I was seven.

I saw a man performing live and said,

"Mom! That is my heaven."

 

Next I learned what's black and white

with 88 bold keys.

No one had to teach me how.

It just came naturally.

 

But this was not enough for me,

I wanted to learn more.

Music took the pain away,

all else was such a bore.

 

When I was ten I tried the flute.

It was not the one for me.

I picked it up and put it down,

but never felt much glee.

 

After that I turned to art,

drawing and shading all day.

The satisfication that I felt

was greater than words can say.

 

I'd drawn for several years in fact,

but this is when it grew.

I improved my technique and learned new things - 

things I never knew.

 

I joined orchestra in high school,

then band and color guard followed.

Each year at the season's end

I choked back tears and swallowed.

 

Friday night lights, bus rides with friends,

days that were fleeting and few - 

they said it'd be gone in the blink of an eye.

I never thought it'd be true.

 

I picked up the french horn because of my friends.

It was harder than they implied.

Despite the struggle, despite the pain.

I continued to try.

 

Sabres and rifles and flags all around,

color guard entered my life.

I never envisioned myself throwing a flag,

much less a gun and a knife.

 

I stuck with my art classes all four years,

each year harder than the last.

My technique improved and my happiness rose

as I worked through things from my past.

 

Life hasn't been easy, some patches are rough,

but I hope it'll end with a smile.

As long as I have my fingers,

I'll stick around for a while.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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