I am from the city with red walls
from concrete and fire brick
I am from the city with old faces
It looks like city of the past that faded away
I am from the cider tree in the park
the seeds of life
The hard rough surface of bark that hurts when you rub it.
I’m from the family funerals and longs lives
from Michael and Carmen
I’m from the warmth of kindness
and the family gatherings
from the tread carefully and
harden yourself to endure
I’m from the cross in the church and with hollow books,
were one finds there own path as a adult after being lead as a child
I’m from the continent of Africa
were yams and Couscous are abundant
From the grandmother that live through the great depression.
and a mother that survived death many times
Picture that cover the living room wall a foot wide
I am from the city with red walls that is stuck between the old and new.
Flowing throught time watching the world.