Sweet, innocent, naïve
These are things I was, when it first came in my hand
Happy and clueless

The sound, escaping the old cracked walls
flimsy, cheap wood creating a random racket
no pattern, just random noise

Young, proud, oblivious;
To the fact it sounded horrible

Distractions, none
Too caught up in my abrupt hand movements
Too care about the smell of buttered pancakes starting to burn

A childish purple wrapping around it like a gift
The gift that carries through my entire life
Like a specific leaf on tree that never falls off

Past, present, future
Carried through this one gift, a distinct line between young and old
the end of the year, the end of an era

mature, determined, passionate
the things I am now, because of this gift
now older and a little less innocent