How I Became

I am from hand-picked cherry tomatoes,
From large lemon fields and backyard apricots.
I am from the towering  natural stone pedestal
Under the baking hot sun
(It was surprisingly cold, like a cool patch of salvation
From the dry hot soil below)
I am from the hand ball court on the out skirts of the playground
a game that I have long forgotten how to play.

I am from repeated questions and pink fuzzy robes.
From the obvious fake lawn, and the street with a name that slips my mind
I am from the dusty old guitar whose happy strums signals my return,
To the pile of sand in the back yard that never seems to move

I am from the sound of a pencil dancing across paper,
From the rush of a perfect save,
And the speed and grace of a fighters footwork.
I came from a world of happiness and sadness,
Of joy and regret,
And of love and anger.

There are cracks in my time line
Whole chapters of my life used to be where the cracks now stand
Those that are left are the ones that I held on for dear life
And even if those fell into the cracks
that lead into the world of lost memories  
The young man I have become, I will never forget.