In my heart,
I come from dirty knees, torn jeans,
and the fields behind the barn
where the grass grows wild.
I come from splashes in the pool and
thorns tearing at bare skin.

In my soul,
I come from the white, radiant clouds
So close I can feel them, but too far
for me to reach them.
I come from the rays of the afternoon sun
illuminating the world with their soft glow.

In my body,
I come from the cicada buzzing in the summer,
and the peaches growing ripe on the trees
waiting to be picked.
I come from the golden leaves in the fall and
the rare, but much awaited dusting of snow.

In my mind,
I come from the fresh paper of new books
and the gentle scratching of pens on paper,
numbing my mind with the quiet sound.
I come from the red-faced frustrations
with numbers and signs.

I come from the land and the sea;
from under the Georgia sun and from
under my black, heat-stricken roof.
I come from this, but I am formed by you.
I am formed by words and thoughts that are not my own,
And for that, I thank you.