I am from velvet purple dresses.
I am from thick summer air;
Fragrant with lilac and pink roses from the hedges.
I am from bubble baths on weeknights,
And the feeling of submersion into hot water.

I am from the clear morning sky;
The purest blue to ever exist.
I am from the eyes of my father,
wise and bright, touched with turquoise.
I am from the carpeting that covered my livingroom floor.

I am from ripe green apples and young cherries,
Ladening the tree branches.
I am from fat caterpillars on oak trees,
And the smell of morning dew.
I am from the pine needles that stuck in my socks in winter.

I am from sunlight pouring like honey through stained-glass.
I am from dandelions and daffodils;
The yellow stains they left on the end of my nose.
I am from the glow of our fireplace in the mornings,
And the taste of fresh lemonade in the summer.

I am from my cat’s orange fur.
I am from the sunsets that painted my childhood sky;
Almost as breathtaking as the stars at night.
I am from rust on my dad’s motorcycles,
And the sound of the engine starting early in the morning.

I am from the blood that oozed from my knees,
And blaming my sister for it.
I am from red summer strawberries,
And red winter cranberries.
I am from the sight of my family in one room on Christmas.

I am from a house built by ghosts,
Ghosts who never left.
I am from three feet of snow,
Covering the world endlessly.
I am from a mansion of white.