I am from Whitethorne Drive,
cool, salty, Pacific air, the Golden State,
a place I first called home.

I am from Ivy Falls,
thick, muggy air, the Lone Star State,
the place I now call home.

I am from a family of four where love is the glue that holds us tight.
My mama's daughter
My daddy's baby girl.
My brother's little sister-That's who I am.

I am from a garden of luscious strawberries and red ripe raspberries, green tender lettuce, heirloom tomatoes, and prickly artichokes,apples, pears, grapes, blueberries, and lemons

I am from the soil of Moraga and frigid air of Wednesday night swim meets.
I am from baby dolls and Barabie dolls, my brother's G.I. Joe's that I decapitated; swings that soar toward the sky, tree houses, and sliding boards

I am from a kitchen filled with the scent of baking brownies and cinnamon apple pies...
Tastes of my own creation

I am from 82 keys of ivory
I am from soulful melodies played on grenadilla and silver
I am from clanging plates of brass carried by dancing feet

I am from try, try again and never give up, the golden rule
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me
I am from His love and grace, His hope, faith, and salvation

I am from spread your wings and learn to fly,
you'll soon be on your own my child.