Friday, 31 January 2014

I Come From

I come from renovated playgrounds and
caravan holidays and long life milk,
Saturdays spent in the library
and Sunday dinners round the kitchen table.
I come from first edition Harry Potters
and my dad’s old record collection,
now gathering dust.
I come from Bristol accents,
from green walls and purple curtains,
marmite on crumpets,
the bunny fields and
evenings spent at Rosie’s house,
with hoards of comic books
and video games
and pets.
I come from the responsibility of being the eldest child,
from ‘family fun time’,
from farmers and butchers
and men who deliver vegetables,
from a stay-at-home mum
and hours spent watching day-time TV.
I come from Sunday school
and library school
and school school,
from the science block
and the languages staircase
and the subway that always stank of piss.
I come from the trees at the bottom of the garden
and the victory of climbing higher than Christopher.
I come from Shania Twain
and Pink Floyd,
but mostly from Mulan and Aladdin.
I come from talking, talking, talking;
from laughter and tears,
from throwing punches
and instant regret,
from being completely unable to hold a grudge.

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