I am from

I am from

the clothes lying around,

from the books on the tables and the dog hair under the couch.

I am from the swing on the back porch.

(Comfortable, squeaky

and waiting for someone.)

I am from the pine trees,

that line up my driveway,

the one's that I have seen grow old.

I am from the home cooked meals.

From the chores and the discipline.

 

I am from the fruit and strong coffee.

From mom and dad.

I am from my older brother,

the one that picked on me.

I am from the hard headed and the know-it-alls,

the morals and the loving ones.

I am from the verses I've read,

to the saying's that have been put on repeat.

 

I am from route 131, along the road.

I am from the torn basketball shoes,

to the hoop that's becoming old.

From the tails my papal told,

to the punishments I've deserved.

Under my bed lies a small box,

of love one's I've lost,

that drift among my dreams

and my thoughts.

 

I am from the memories that lay in my back yard,

to the one's that continue today.

From the wise words my family spoke,

to keep me at bay.