Closet-Personal Narrative

Words: 221
Pages: 1

I am from the brown and white house on Clarence st. From sky high ceilings and hand made closets. I am from the tall oak tree that sprouted red leaves (we called her Meome) and the children who'd never do less than scream. I am from my grandma's cooking and my mother yelling,
From the clean your room! And the I'm telling mom.
I'm from my mother's parties upstairs whether us kids liked it or not. I am now from the cozy tan house on Leslie st.
I am from low cut ceilings that I never fail to bang my head and a smaller than hoped closet. I am from the tiny tree that looks like an umbrella sitting out front
(we call him Oliver)
And the quiet neighborhood where you can hear so little as a squirrel sneeze. I am from cooking on the