I come from laughter,
my pride and joy
Within those sounds I linger,
finding myself laughing too.

The cold grasses in the morning,
tickling, soaking my feet.
The pitter-pat of paws and yawns.
The late night rains that lull me to sleep.
I curl up beneath the softness of fleece blankets,
the simple joys of being home.

I come from a family of five.
Our family scurries about often short on time.
Whether we’re here,
there,
or really anywhere.
Expectations surround us,
like a shelf of opportunity,
growing, growing,
never ceasing to expand.
I pluck and pluck yet I find it strange how it never goes away,
Oh how I wonder . . .