I'm From Poem

I am from garden gnomes
Guarding blooming roses and juicy berries
I’m from withered brick pathways
Behind rotting wooden gates with squeaky hinges
I’m from annual block parties
an aroma of pasta salad and country time lemonade
I’m from peach pies and banana bread
made on the whim of a man raised
to make things without the recipe
I’m from TV dinners in Central Perk
and night caps of 100% V
I’m from home made noodles           
Mirroring my ancestor’s ancient history
that’s new to me
I’m from day dreaming nights
falling stars and purple aliens
just waiting to make friends
I’m from early Sunday mornings
Episcopal church and Quaker meetinghouse
Starting in a sounding chorus
And ending in silent prayer.