I am from tattered shoes on the floor
From GE appliances and a steamboat whistle.
I am from the hand painted bathroom (colorful and odd, it blinded you in the morning)
I am from the cherry tree that sheds snow white blossoms
From wading through seas of autumn leaves
I am from Friday Fish Fries and men with shiny heads
From Bud and Searing and Colson’s seed was mine
I am from the random humor and spontaneous songs.
From don’t do that and get out of my spot
I am from everybody rise to just say amen already
I’m from Larry and Kathy’s arms,
From lasagna and leftovers from last night
From Mom hanging computer mice from the ceiling,
From parents laughing hysterically at local restaurants
From arriving en mass at bakeries on bikes
I am from these memories
Lining the walls and along my path
I see hidden stories from my past
Each of them a precious child I never had