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Stockton's Poem

The Viola

The Viola, veteran of the symphony
With its deep shades of gold and mahogany
And its robust, pear-shaped body;
Coming together to form its eerie,
Chocolate-like sound
Effortlessly telling stories of the dead
At the hand of its master.

Like a fish in water
The bow glides gracefully over the strings
Bringing the stories of the dead
From beyond the grave
Brought through with the heart and the soul of the brave.


Memory Poem
The dark shadows casting upon me
They were no help soothing the demon within me.
The heavy, clunking door slamming behind me
Reinforcing the fear and the nerves inside of me.

The boxes scattered across the rooms
Somehow making them full and yet empty still.
This is the place that is now my “home”
But… A home it was not yet!
As I settle into my room, I think to myself
“This is okay… this is gonna be allright”




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