A top hat.
Roped through with leather,
Withered away with time and effort.
If I do not wear it,
I feel incomplete.
It shows for why we compete,
For why we stand around a fire.
To send off those before, for a new chapter.
Until I am the one standing in the middle,
Wishing i had more time with my family.
I am from drumsticks, from Vic Firth and drumheads.
I am from the only house on the block that sits on a hill.
I am from the oak tree, the big bush in the yard.
I am from camping trips and good time, from James and Christie and Monica.
I am from the hard workers and kind words.
From the “I love you’s” and “..be kind to others.”
I am from sleeping in on Sundays to watching the game.
I’m from Canada, hamburgers and pasta.
From the four tours my dad took to Afghanistan,
The hard work, and the moving across the country.
I am from the dusty frames hanging on the walls that show a whole book of stories from my life.