I was a kid on Christmas morning,
racing down the stairs,
I noticed something special,
Nothing could compare

A stringed, glossy instrument
standing high among the gifts,
a prize I surely recognized
a gift I couldn’t miss

My 8 year old hands,  just couldn’t wait anymore
I grabbed the guitar as I plopped on the floor,
The beautiful instrument too big for my size
I Imagined a stage as I closed my eyes 

I never knew how much this would change me
Picking up this instrument, could truly sustain me
My little hands stretched over the neck
My small little fingers playing each fret

I was Slightly disappointed,
that nothing beautiful came out
My fingers haven’t learned just yet,
My mind doesn't know how

The guitar I set down
I didn't know what I had done wrong
I saw my Dad smiling down at me
He knew it all along

My life would soon revolve around notes
All I had to do was hope
By Hope I mean practice
Cause practice makes perfect
Slightly cliché I know now that it's worth it