Child hood poem

Oh, how roots run deep like the ocean's floor, From Cape Town, a birth, where the warm souls pour. My dear grandparents, they played records, so fine, And sang  songs that lit up my soul, as divine.

I was just a child, yet the music spoke to me, In a land where Mandela's plight was still to be set free. The culture, oh the culture, so diverse and unique, With each turn came the sounds, oh so sweet to my ears to seek.

My family, they saw the injustice, the apartheid's wrongs, And so we journeyed to the east coast, where life was a different song. There is more to this tale, a chapter, a book even, But for this interview, let's say, my youth was African and  American.

With an A1 moving truck, we traversed  the nation, Landing in the pacific northwest, a state of fascination. Middle school years, a time of growth and blossoming, With Microsoft and Grunge, my city was constantly thriving.

Those years were rich, oh so different from now, The contrast between then and now, we can hardly allow. The world has evolved, but music, oh it still remains, A constant in my life, even as the way we consume it has changed.

I hold dear to my heart the memories, the life I've led, And cherish the decade or two where it all began, I have said. For even as the world moves on, I know where I come from, And that is a gift, a treasure, that can never be undone.


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