Where I’m From

By MAGGIE DUNN

I am from hand-me-down books.
From daydreams and space cadets.
I am from the back roads of New Orleans: bright, bold and tasting like spice.
I am from the roses in the sidewalk cracks, the sunset sky and peacocks running wild.
I am from starry skies and emerald eyes, from Adonis and Aphrodite.
I’m from the I-love-you-mores and the catch-me-if-you-cans.
From glass beads and pomegranate seeds.
I’m from meteor showers after summer rains, comets lighting up the sky painting pictures in the stars.
I’m from the naiads of the Mississippi pushing treasure towards the shore.
I’m from the Spanish moss hanging like spirits in the trees.
From moonlace blooming sickly sweet in the night.
I’m from linked arms and belly laughs.
On my dresser sits a box of treasures. A magnolia bud, broken glass, rusted metal, driftwood and feather galore.
Each item holds a memory worth more than diamonds. Adventures gilded in gold.