By Santos Flores
I am from a car.
From Ferrari and Enzo.
I’m from the wheel, black seats and a black radio.
I t sounds like the CD rap.
I am from the car.
The car is like the sound of rap music.
Who runs miles and miles without stopping.
I am from sound of cars.
From the racecars, they are fast.
I’m from the known cars and the past cars.
From the old car in the city.
I’m from Chucky Cheese’s with a pepperoni pizza and cheese with pepper.
I am from Maryland, friends and strong families
From my cousin I lost.
The love that my mother gives me, I keep in my heart
Under my desk I have a radio connected with the Nintendo.
I’m from this moment
Thinking about who I’ll be when I’m older.
By Samrawit Yalewayker
I am from noisy vacuums
From a blue Hoover
I am from grass at my front door
It smells like flowers.
I am from the oak trees which are only seven months older than me
I am from Barbie dolls and a silver bike
From Samry and Rahel.
I am from “Clean your room”
And “Do your homework.”
I am from, “Can I play games?”
I am from Hilton, Ethiopia.
From rice and injera
From the loss of my puppy.
From the trip to America that my family made.
On the shelf I keep my books.
I am from memories of when I was young.
By Adja Koite,
I am from dish washing liquid,
From cleaning glass.
I am from the squirrels,
Black, it feels soft.
I am from the oak tree,
From the parking lot which is only 5 months old to me
I am from crying,
I am from smallness,
I am from Barbie dolls.
I am from “Do you homework,”
From “Sleep on time,”
From “I like my class.”
I am from home,
From pizza and spaghetti,
I am from my grandmother, who grew white hair,
I am from the trip to America my family made,
I am from under my table; there is a box of videos,
I am form these memories of when I was a baby.