I am from the scent of my mother’s soft golden-brown cheesecake
From cupcakes to stale bread
I am from where sand meets the sea
From seashells to big tides

I’m from the pitter-patter of the raindrops on a mid-afternoon
To the branches of the great oak tree
That stretches for longer than I could reach

I am from the pencil lines dancing across white paper
To wet strokes of a brush scattered on a white canvas
From music flowing out of a wooden box
Decorated with stickers

I’m from the loud chatters every Thanksgiving
To the gradient of colors of every sunrise
I am from the broken bicycle under the staircase
And the hand-painted Christmas ornaments on the walls

I am from puzzle pieces lost in the corners of the rooms
From the pollen-painted fingers clutching flowers
To cold ice cream cones on a summer day

I’m from the scribbles of black-penned letters
I am from my Name