I come from the soft lavender walls to my dusty wooden floor,

as beyond the door mother yells out "do your homework!"

There's plastered print posters of the bands I loyally adore.

The very influential Linkin Park, and Blur in all their British glory.

I quite do believe the looks on their faces,

and lyrically they speak clear to me.

From the green grass blades of freedom below my bare feet,

I come from the secret garden within.

Colors like purple and yellow splashed onto petals of petunias,

and the daffodil trumpets that sing out "spring"

to which I always sneezed.

I am from the boiling pot in the kitchen where grandma would be cooking.

A traditional plate of Pork adobo would become an aroma dancing in the air.

The forecast coming in from life's storms of struggles,

and a hopeful prayer an old wise woman passed upon to me.

In times of help there would always be Abby or Melanie there,

but they wouldn't be with me to hear "grandfather just passed away, dear."

"Cootis" made more sense back then than death.

I come from the innocence of childhood's favorite stuffed animal,

named "Cinders" who was the shade of black in which was one color,

of sorting clothes that had to be washed.

From a hand woven basket carrying a group of far off islands,

with a temperature that heats up the people,

but also the nostalgia that burns photographic images into my lingering mind.

I come from being a hooligan with my Filipino native cousins,

Brent and Paul also known as "Nookie."

We walk along streets of little picture square tin hut homes,

and better out our favorite tunes.

We rock out,

to "In the End" and "Teenagers."

Capturing mental photos of our smiling faces,

to be washed away down into the middle of a breezy ocean.

Surrounding the Philippine boundaries,

and my father's American dream,

this is where I come from.

Then, now, and the future,

this is me.