I’m from broken dreams and empty houses,

a lake that runs through my veins like blood,

from a town on waters edge.

I’m from a cold stream running b e t w e e n my toes,

to frogs that hop from log to log and

trees that cast shadows like skyscrapers with

a corn field as a backyard.

I’m from a dense, traffic-filled city

with motorcycles at midnight,

a fancy school with dresses and courtyards,

to sunflowers in the fields and late night giggles

with games of truth or dare.

I’m from Lake Country and train tracks,

picture painted sunsets with lingering summers on the lake,

to frigid snow-filled winters.

I’m from new friends and new homes

but  my roots will always be from

broken dreams and empty houses.