I am a tree,
I have roots that run deep
and branches that bud leaves.

My roots start at the home,
the sticky summer days spent on the lake
and the two-hour board games my family and I play.

My trunk begins with my childhood,
the struggle of not having two parents in the same house
but the Wednesday night dinners my dad takes me to.

My bark is made with experiences,
the positive cancer test result
and the pink ribbon my mom wears.

My branches stretch out my interests,
the pounding bass drum at the Rave concerts
but the distant highway moans from the campground.

My twigs are the names,
the woman named Jeana who treats me as her own
and a boy named Ben who loves to go on hikes with me.

My leaves show my appearance,
the shakiness in the knees
but inviting eyes.

My flowers blossom values,
the time no one showed up to my party but we still ate the cake
and family helps you grow not pay.

My fruit is rich with sayings,
  the wake up song “rise and shine bring back the morning glories ”
but when mom helps “thanks mom, you’re the best mom”.

I am a tree,
I have roots that run deep
and branches that bud leaves.