I am from a busy street
Cars zipping by and traffic jams.
I am from the roses in the garden
Smell of sweet summer and thorns sharp enough to make me bleed.
I’m from Thanksgiving
With the smell of pumpkin pie in the room.
I’m from two devoted parents,
Parents who love me unconditionally.
I’m from speech classes
And Melissa’s sound.
I’m from are you sore at me babe
To it’s not the end of the world.
I’m from family traditions and sibling rivalry,
Sleepovers and late night conversations.
I’m from Sunday church
From Sunday breakfast with eggs over-hard.
On my dresser is a photo album
With past memories and future moments.
I’m from these moments
Which will always be in my heart.