I am from the constant hum of cars down Plainfield ave
From the sirens that blare through my window and night
And from the music that seems to vibrate through my walls

I am from a small house with paint faded from age
From the door that was broken down by thieves
And from the blue shudder that was stolen by a storm

I am from the tree whose flowers cover the yard like a blanket
From the autumn breeze that is a guide for lost leaves into the next season
And from the mush of crushed slush that once resembled snow

I am from holiday traditions
From fiery family fights over odd opinions
And from the stories shared over pumpkin pie

I am from New Jersey
From the salty shores I once thought I would abandon
And from the place I now know,  I will always cherish as my home