Birth and Rebirth of a Poet

I am from my past.

I am from memories.

I am from days faded, and

                from nights never ending.

I am from food coloring,

from basement swings;

feet not grazing the ground.

Dreams grazing the sky.

I am from sundaes on Sunday,

and pancakes for lunch.

I am from Oma’s blaukraut:

                a smell you can taste.

                Savory.

                Lingering.

I am from leaf piles and driveway sledding.

                From window goodbyes and sheltering hugs.

From days spent doing everything, but nothing at all.

 

I am from open arms.

 

I am from my present.

I am from memories captured.

                From disagreements and accord.

I am loved “from the sun, the moon, the stars and back”,

                the reminder I will never be alone.

I am from the world.

                from the well traveled;

                from destinations remote.

I am from cavemen and ice cream:

                The perfect combination lifestyle.

I am from late night goodbyes and morning well wishes.

I am from car dancing.

I am from singing to the radio, a little off key.

                From music,

                Where there is no communication barrier.

I am from the over thinker and the nonchalant.

                From opposites

                who gave me a glimpse of life;

                of friendship;

                of soul mates.

 

                I am from helping hands.

 

I am from my future.

I am from feeling too much, and not enough.

I am from eyes,

And seeing what others seem to overlook.

I am from escapes.

                In music.

                In literature.

I am from spending more time enjoying. More time feeling.

                Just more time.

I am from complaining.

                From second guessing.

                From late nights.

I am from long thoughts, and

                Shower debates.

I am from thoughts and aspirations that are uncertain.

I am from writing.

I am from too many thoughts, and not enough words.

                From my hands speaking;

                Saying the things I cannot out loud. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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