I Am From...

A windy dirt path leading into the forest off of Poorman Creek Road
Skivers hot from the pan on a cold weekend morning
Hunting for morels beneath broken logs and leafy undergrowth
Shadows moving along the wall as I sit alone in the dark

I Am From...

Baylee reading stories to me as we strain to hear the jingle of a magic sleigh
Monsieur Renard watching over us through the window pane
A fairy hideout shaded by bushes and full of magic
Playing bad-mitten on our lawn with my family at sunset

I Am...

A ship, a fort, a castle, an imagination refuge, a child’s playhouse
A black, furry bear splashing around in the pool
A cold, babbling creek creating a path through the trees to my home
The scent of old books, holding a bit of every person that’s read them