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. 


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