I come from the breeze, cool like a crisp fall morning, blowing gently off the water on the lake.

I come from evening boat rides, the sun setting softly over the horizon,

projecting colors like a painting in the sky.

I come from summer nights, catching fireflies in the dark.

I come from the scent of pumpkin pie baking at Grandma’s on Thanksgiving Day.

I come from bike rides down Sawyer Road, with unknown destinations, 

as Mom and Dad trail behind me, winding in and out of the trees.

I come from the glistening fireplace as Mom’s homemade hot chocolate brews on the stove.

But then, I come from houses apart, drifted away through anger and despair. 

I come from a family of broken promises and written disaster,

with no sign of hope for a happy future together. 

I come from the arguing, fighting, and yelling all night long. 

I come from a lost trust, blown away like the water on the lake.

I come from feelings set inside like the reds and oranges

setting over the horizon.

I come from that breeze, where these thoughts wear away, and all I know is the lake