In the halls of eighth grade’s lore,

We stand on youth’s trembling shore.

Pencils down, hearts aflutter,

Voices lost in lockers’ clutter.

Elementary days now past,

Middle school’s die is cast.

Questions deep and answers shy,

“Who are we?” The eternal cry.

No perfection in our script,

Lines of self, often slipped.

Each phase a draft, not quite right,

In the art of life, we’re all beginners.

Eighth grade’s chapter, bittersweet,

A prelude to high school’s beat.

In every phase, we seek, we yearn,

For in every lesson, there’s more to learn.

Christele Tanis

Age 13, Grade 8

Trexler Middle School

Allentown School District