A poem written using this template Where I'm from I am from the potting soil, from Macintosh apples and sunday milkshake. I am from the soft carpet, white stained walls, a busy stovetop with many busy pans and pots. I am from the African Violets, the rosemary, the fat jade and the yellow and white buttercups. I am from the Khors, eat too much (way to much!), proud, stubborn, sensitive, brave and dramatic. I am from the mom whose children slowly grow to resemble and from a world where people believe in tomorrows. From if you flip the fish somebody's boat will sink and a life without hardship is not worth living. I am from pockets of God, whose grace I see through you and those green living things. I'm from a place with too little land and too many rituals, freshly steamed lobster and freshly steamed fish. From her stubborn tears, shaky fists, and gentle soul. From his angry words, his beautiful orchids, and a heart that envelopes me with the kind of joy I'd die for. I am from the first snowman in the white winter, from the bud hidden under the petals, from the touch of soil on my finger tips, from the pebbles and twigs, elephants and cows, elephants and cows. 
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