I am from Poetry

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I from beauty of Pakistan, to the streets of Frederick Avenue,
From the love of my parents Rukhsana, and Shafqat.
I am from dead end street, to noisy neighbors in the summer,
From the same plain white houses in the street, and huge scary trees.
I am from colonial house, to red rose bushes in the front lawn,
From big back yards, and a set of green chairs.
I am from white tiles in the kitchen, and the brown wooden counter,
From my mom’s beef sandwiches, to delicious chocolate cakes.
I am from the lovely Valentine’s Day, and the horrifying Halloween treats,
From the bedtime story of Cinderella, to my grandma’s old picture in the living room.

I am from little Blues Clues on nickelodeons, and the loss of my uncle,
From the first grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson, and the small colorful classrooms.
I am from clean room, and plain white walls,
From my most favorite tweedy bird pajamas, to college of medicine in the next five years.
I am from the ugly brown high neck sweater, to most watched show Rugrats,
From the chunky chocolate chip cookies, and yellow butterfly blanket.
I am from tiny paws of my cat Kai, and the bad tastes of medicine,
From the summer pools, and the hot coco in the winters.

I am from sad rainy days, to collecting lighting bugs on summer evenings,
From the swallowing penny, and long boring homeworks.
I am from brown brick porches, and the messy garage,
From the milk in the refrigerator, to the scary movie Grudge.
I am from Cat in the Hat and the fights with my best friends,
From the family dinners at Red Robbins, and my most worn baby blue dress.
I am from an old picture album.

Excellent and appalling moments,
All are kept in one old file.
Lost somewhere in the attic,
Hoping to be found again,
To remind the moments.





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