WHERE I’M FROM
I am from mamaws home cookin’, from John Deer and Honda
I am from the garden down the hill
I am from the apple tree in the front yard
I am from huntin’ and fishin’, from mom and dad and the nease’s
I am from the backwoods play ground that children now know better than I do, from a small quiet holler to the next one over
From Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny
I am from fried apple pies and colds from playing in the creek
I am from the backwoods babtists’ of Virginia and gravy and biscuit
from the heart of the south to the Mason Dixon line
I am from the smell of pine and backwoods clay, i am from running through the mountains till I find no place else to go.