I am from the lilac tree,
The sounds of imagination and play.
From the bare feet on the grass,
The wish flowers so softly whispered
into my listening ear
I am from the loving songs,
The silly and the soothing.
From the cries of my sister,
The innocence of her needs
That even she did not understand.
I am from the deep thoughts,
Festering, pondering.
From the angst of the age,
The tears of my frustration,
and the ecstasy of success.
I am from the laughing faces,
The mocking and the kind.
From the comfort of friends,
I can bare
The sharp slap of rejection
I am from the future,
To my past self.
From the growth and change
Of adolescence and mind,
And expanding experience.
I am from the overgrowth of vines,
Wild and tangled.
From the bitter boysenberries
That stain you with their blood;
They won’t let you forget.
I am from the rising sun,
The dependable dawn.
From the falling darkness,
The moonlight guides
The thorny path ahead.
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