The marshmallows glazed with orange and yellow flames,

the sound of laughter after being tagged

the wisp of air from a thrown frisbee hitting skin on a cheek.

The bumping of music,

the splash of dripping water after a cannonball,

the cries after being pinned in a wrestling match.

I’m from the house buried in trees,

driven past without awareness,

known for existence yet not enough purpose to be admired.

I’m from property with built in adventures,

shown to only those who look,

lived by the most important people I know.

The place my childhood was born,

the memories that blossomed into my life,

the hard to describe feeling I get each day.

The place that showed me love and support

the place that is seen for just a house,

for me it is my home.

I’m from the unnoticed home behind the trees,

the place I love so dearly,

the place no one can see.