I am from

I am from the hidden brown house with the green trim that we have discussed changing but never get around to it.
I am from the poppies, roses and cherry blossoms in the backyard, the long grass that dad keeps forgetting to cut.
I am from one present opened on Christmas eve but the rest have to wait 'till the morning and red hair that never goes gray.
I am from Grandpa's curly mustache and grandma's "famous" shortbread.
I am from umbrella's covered in rain and sand covering me head to toe.
I am from slumber parties with pillow fights and secrets.

I am from love.

Wet Feet

I open the door.

The smell of new rain and

morning dew overwhelm my nose.
"What a lovely day" a bird
chirps down to me
from his perch in a low tree.
I reply to him with the smile on my face.
I step onto the cold stone
patio that is blanketed with moss.
I carefully step onto the grass.
My feet squish into the damp grass.
They soon turn numb with the
combination of wet and cold
but it is a good kind of numb.
Not the kind that makes you
lift your feet and hop around like you
have been stung by a bee.
The sun warms my bare back
and dries
my wet feet.