I am from...

I am from the street where bicycles are left out in the bright sun in the blue sky, Houses larger and smaller than mine, the revving sounds of lawnmowers slicing the grass. I am from the house with two floors, almost one more with the sound of screeching opening doors. You could almost hear the door opening every second. I am from bins filled with toys. Wynnie barks over the beautiful sound of the piano down stairs when it is being played. My parents feet thumping on the hard floors, cuddling with my sister on the comfy new couches after school. I am from home the years of memories with my parents in our backyard. Parties with our family. Shelves filled with big and small objects that are looked at every day. I am from home