By: Rhea Jain

The Baldwin School, PA, USA

I am from rough, crinkly pages,

from the thin layer of dust coating each cover

like a blanket of snow lain over rolling hills.

I am from all the different realms

these pages transport me to,

from the castles to the forests

to the wide open flower fields.

I am from the black and white at my fingertips,

from the language that plays from my heart.

I am from the warm, relaxed melodies,

from the bouncing, buzzing, beating ballads.

I’m from the place where it takes me,

from the feeling it gives me,

and from the state it leaves me in.

I am from the sun basking on my neck,

from the silver glow on the tips of the trees.

I’m from the endless green surrounding me,

the crunch of orange and red at my feet.

I am from the crisp breeze that rustles my hair,

from the waft of spice and cinnamon.

I’m from the feel of the delicacies,

warm and melting on my tongue.

I’m from the thought of my father,

constantly in my mind,

his honor and respectability

which I strive to see in myself.

I am from the childhood with my mother,

the lessons she has taught me.

From the path through life

she has dreamed for me and spun.

I am from the chocolate brown of my eyes,

and from the wonder underneath.

The eyes that see the magic in everything

around me.

The eyes that create a world only I am from.