I am from books

From the cold and the quiet.

I am from arched windows,

The smell of dust after rain.

I am from blue sky above granite,

The wispy clouds across the square.

I'm from a small rainbow over water,

From birds of the winged trees flying my name.

I'm from brown and red and yellow

And from blue and silver and white.

I am from and empty heaven, and nothing lasts forever.

I'm from a bright, shining city by the sea, and traeme la luna.

I'm from a new world and an old

From a hummingbird here one moment

And gone the next.

From a boy with hair the color of lemons

And twins silver as the stars.

I'm from paper, ancient and cracked,

And from shiny new books where I keep my family.

I am from stage lights

From music and dance.

I am from poets and preachers,

The colors of the evening stars.

I am from tunnels and mist,

The shivering snow blanketing the forest.

I'm from cake-frosting clouds,

From sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown.

I'm from the first-ever green

And from the sun soaking into my bones.

I am from glitter strewn across the midnight black,

From leaves in my hair and moths in the grass.

I'm from dewdrops on cobwebs, and a magic box.

From something old, something new, something borrowed

And something blue.

I am from see-glass, and let there be light.

I'm from fairy tales, and faerie tails,

Sword-swinging princesses and lightning-throwing gods.

I am from a ble-eyed boy, and fingers long and lean,

From white claws reaching up to the last ray of sun.

I am from the dead, walking and haunting and crawling to your bed at night.

I am from a girl sleeping in a silver drawer, eyes getting used to the dark.

From the tree of good and evil

And a night cold and delicate and full of angels.