I'm from...

I am a firework,

Ready to blow minds,

Waiting to dazzle, shimmer, and shine.

Just waiting for someone to give me a chance to fly.

 

I am from big sky and buried treasures.

It’s a place where you’re never sure if the Earth is swallowing up the heavens or the heavens are swallowing up the Earth.

Sunsets feel eternal and problems seem only momentary.

I’m from golden oceans of swaying grain and crystal rivers of frigid snow melt.

I’m from Indian summers and nine month winters.

 

I am from a small college town.

A place of double-diamond ski slopes and evergreen trees.

It’s where hiking trails are abundant and crowds are scarce.

I’m from farmers markets, sweet pea festivals, and Main Street parades.

I’m from moonlit games of dragnet under the late August sky.

 

I am from river dance music and African drums,

From midnight walks under starry skies.

I’m from the contra dancers and theatre goers.

I’m from chocolate mousse and huckleberry cream pie.

 

I am from two parents who never had kids.

From a mother who is headstrong and always knows her limits,

And a father who says the only limit on you is yourself.

I’m from a long lost brother and a sister that I’ve never met.

I’ve came from fireside conversations in the late hours of the night,

From long road trips and short stays.

I’m from hard work and a path that’s less traveled.

I’m from silent stories and unspoken fears when I was thought to be asleep.

 

I am from stray cat snuggles and offset purrs.

From window weary birds and tadpoles raised in a hunters sled.

I’m from a ten pounds over-loved terrier.

I’m from raising ducklings and feeding grizzly bear cubs.

I’m from floppy eared bunnies and Andy Griffith loving birds.

 

I’m from handmade tea brews and homemade pecan cookies,

From countless masks from unknown places that now reside upon my bedroom walls.

I’m from barefoot walks and warm winter boots.

I am from old scars and pretend to be forgotten memories,

You know, the kind that you explain with a smile and a good lie.

 

I am from a lonesome boy’s sad, frosted, blue eyes

That can somehow manage to see past all the masks and shallow surfaces,

Who knows the reason why I need to run to where nobody knows my name.

Who, just like me, realizes that it isn’t where he’s from that’s important,

Or even where he is going for that matter,

Just that he is halfway to most dreamed about someday.

 

Author's Note

Reviews/comments are always more than welcome!