The red brick house
that sits at the end of Carnegie Court
is where I grew tall
with markings in the door way
and my secrets written on my closet wall
or thats where they used to be
before they were hidden by a layer of fresh paint
and we moved away from the Bradford pear
that sat outside my window
that I climbed everyday
Plano is where my Grandparents live
in a house that smells of coffee beans
and sewing machines
old books lined up on the wall
with pictures my Grandpa took of brilliant waterfalls
an older piano where I first learned to play
and a fire place that we use to light together on Christmas Day
Colorado holds many memories
from the many summers I’ve spent with my family
pulling our camper from one park to the next
seeing all the beauty the world has hidden
beneath foliage and the crystal waters
in the rock and the caverns
behind falls and between the trees
lies God’s beauty of more than just birds and bees
the flowers and the fruits
and the smell of fresh pine always reminds me
the reason we revisit from time to time
The photos that climb my stairs
are from memories that will never need repairs
the good and the bad have all shaped me in some way
and I am who I am needless to say
So I sit in my room
looking past my poster covered walls
remembering the times
that were worthy of this black ink
listening to my music
and writing in sync
knowing that now
still so much awaits me
and the world is still out there
ready to embrace me