The small guitarist

Armed with a guitar as tall as himself,

He sits on the smallest chair,

Making faces like an elf,

As nervous eyes looked elsewhere.

Everyone finds him cute and small,

But he doesn't want to be written off,

Bullied at school as he was not tall,

This was his time, the day's better half.

Spoke only to his guitar, he was shy,

Told it about the song that he wanted to try,

Tapping his foot to get the timing right,

Closed his eyes to see a different sight.

Fingers fought with the strings,

As he tried to play the song,

Happily oblivious to all other things,

But the joy wouldn't last long.

Cacophony filled the air,

The song went awfully wrong,

He stopped and scratched his head,

Said to himself it wouldn't take long.

Then he waited for his turn,

As his teacher taught the rest,

Humming the tune he could not learn,

He sat like a student earnest