I am from
Sticky summer nights,
With a red popsicle stuck in my mouth,
Bare feet and grass stains smeared across my knees.
I am from
Dark nights with nothing to listen to, but
The howling wind haunting my dreams.
I am from
The ash of a cigar, whose smoke slithers around the air
And wraps itself around my nose and tangles in my hair.
I am from
My Granny Jewel,
And her deep-rooted wrinkles that are carved into the ground,
And in my blood.
I am from
blue tongues stained with the syrup of melted cotton candy,
And cavities we never regretted getting.
I am from
The proud oak tree standing outside my window,
Never bowing to the raging wind.
I am from the orange pine needles covering the grass,
That we raked up only to litter the ground again.
I am from
Thanks giving dinner,
With a fire flickering and moist turkey covered in two sticks of butter,
And the smell of fresh rolls and pumpkin pie,
Topped with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream.