Where I’m From

I am from sand,
From dry heat and dust.
I am from the cold Idaho winter,
The feel of dark cold soil.

I'm from never ending green fields,
From the smell of motor oil and rubber.
I'm from the dare devils and adventure seekers.

I'm from the "Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree,"
And "The chip of the old block."
I'm from sliding down water slides,
And sledding down snow powdered hills.

I'm from a room, swallowed by toys, and a kitchen filled with snacks.
I'm from a loving family, and an old Sunday church.

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