I am from 

A small house 

On a small street

Familiar from an eternity living there

I am from bickering with a sister

Over small toys, stuffed animals

Pouring out our imaginations 

Turning into knights, and creatures

Set off on a quest. 

I am from

Trees

Limbs covered in skin touching limbs covered in rough bark

Climbing high

Our eyes set to the sky 

Till the sun fell away and stars speckled the darkness

I am from dinners with grandparents

Sitting in the back of the car,

Driving out of the tunnel of trees in the dark

Like the mouth of a cave

I am from car rides

Across country land

To splashing, swimming 

In the salty sea

Scaling slippery rocks

Searching for seashells

I am from light brown fur

As soft and sweet as caramel

Throwing tennis balls

Watching a flurry of feet fly after them

Ring, ring

I am from seasons spent with neighbors

Alerted to the sound of the door bell

Wheels of bikes, skateboards and scooters

Rolling, rolling

Sticky limbs in the hot summer sun

Racing and chasing

Over the crunchy autumn leaves

Littering the ground like confetti

Our footsteps turning from the crunch of autumn

To the crunch of snow beneath our boots

Collecting sleds for our journey to the hill

Hollering and hooting the whole way down. 

I am from lazy days

Spent consumed in a world 

Of characters

Come to life in the pages of books,

On the screens of TV’s and computers

I am from

A small house 

On a small street

Filled with buckets full of memories made.