Where I'm From

~Inspired by George Ella Lyons

I am from scaffolds,
from worn ceilings and peeled paint.
I am from the sand sifting through bare hands.
(Beige, windswept,
scattered far and wide.)
I am from the tulip patch,
the Populus nigra,
whose willow-wild leaves 
blow back and forth in the wind.

I'm from muffins and shades, 
from Snoopy and Einstein.
I'm from the artists
and the scribblers,
From Stand straight! and Don't underrate!
"I'm from the barren streets at the end of the ocean,
listening to a heart pounding harder than an engine,
where mystery, passion, and ideas take flight."

I'm from Ede and Naples, 
dutch apple milk and lasagna.
From the relatives we left behind,
the miles my great grandfather trekked,
into the unknown.

As I fall to sleep I remember,
everything. 
From following ducks into a lake,
to a list of faces,
some of whom I may not even know.
I am from those times—
from those memories—
I am one small blossom on my family tree.

The End

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