I started as just a block of wood,
an unneeded piece of an old maple tree.
But someone saw me
and imagined what I could really become.
I wasn’t much to perceive at first,
just a bunch of nicks and sharp edges.
But I was sawed and sanded;
my ribs were bent.
I was hammered and scraped into existence,
my body being formed by the skilled hands of the crafter.
I was carved into beauty.
But it was not easy, it was hard and painful.
It took many weeks;
My crafter had to be patient and gentle.
One wrong carve and I would no longer be good for anything
but a pile of kindling.
But he was careful, as careful as a spider constructing her web.
Finally, after much work,
I was inlayed with purfling
and stained to perfection.
My bridge was set in place
and my strings were loosely laid over my glistening fingerboard.

I remember that first time my strings
were tightened by new pegs and plucked.
Their sound hung in the air like the ringing of bells
I could barely contain my excitement as I was set in a new case
and introduced to my very own bow.
I was a gift for a young girl for her birthday.
She would take me out and play me and talk to me.
I would talk back to her through her music.
We had many pleasant memories together.

Then, I was given to her son,
who loved me just as much as she did.
And then I was passed onto his daughter.
Now by this time, I had put a good many musical performances and memories behind me
and the son’s daughter put me in the attic, forgetting.
Forgetting the wonderful times that had been had with me,
forgetting my sound.
I sat alone, forgotten and neglected
with only my dear friend the bow to talk to
besides the dust that settled on me, which I found was most in social.
I missed the days of singing and laughing with music.
Then, one day, the daughter died
and her children came to clean through her stuff.
That’s when her granddaughter found me.
She squealed with joy at the sight of me and my strings vibrated in excitement...
but broke after ages of neglect.

But it was wonderful to be loved again!
I was taken to the shop and repaired by the crafter’s great-grandson
and then taken to my new home
where I can speak the words of music once again!