Poetry

This week, my kids are finishing up writing poetry. I joined them when they imitated "I Am From" by George Ella Lyons, and this is what I came up with.

I am from make believe,
from playing school and hidden forts.
I am from climbing trees
(and sometimes falling out of them).

I am from the wisteria bush,
a constant battle,
the water tower overflowing,
bike rides and bare feet.

I’m from lumpy mashed potatoes,
from Tarno and Crowley.
I’m from bedtime stories
and Murphy’s law,
from “This too shall pass.”
I’m from “God is good, God is great”
at a family dinner
with us all around.

I’m from small town streets,
milk-lightened sweet coffee and boiled eggs on the back porch.
From my daddy’s blue eyes,
My momma’s strength passed on from hers and hers.

On the shelf are the albums,
worn and faded,
filled with images
of family, faith and forever love.
I am from these snapshots
captured in time—
My roots, my life.