I'm from across the brilliant ocean.
Speckled birch trees throughout.
Chesnutt tinted mushrooms dancing in the sparkling forest.
I'm from the wet roads, crumbling away like cookies, embossed with vibrant trolleys,
Enriched with hues of sapphire and advertisements.
I'm from the iced-over lakes, where kids skate, while
The frosty air hovers around them.
I'm from the streets with buildings that scrape the clouds,
Where I take the breaths of tall trees mixed with gasoline.
And pass the people posed like statues, blank of expression.
And I pass the monumental statues too, the ones the country reveres.
I'm from classy caf's, where the heaven of cocoa, coffee, and chocolate lay.
I'm from stroll in the parks, hand in hand with family.
I'm from warm, dinner gatherings of clear Russian vodka and warm feasts
I'm from imperfection, where my heart will always be.
Even though all I have left are faded sepia photographs and a four year olds vivid memory.