Where I’m From

I am from coffee beans,  

from bitter brews and cracked porcelain mugs.  

I am from the steamed soy eggs,  

the scent that clings to mornings  

like an old, Chinese dwelling.

I’m from milk stirred slow  

and matcha leaves whisked to foam  

green clouds rising in a small bowl,  

the earthy taste of patience.

I’m from hot tea at dusk  

and jasmine blooming at dawn,  

from Gigi saying “finish your cup”  

and then saying“breathe it in.”  

I’m from warm ovens and sugar-cracked air,

from sweetness that drifts like a lullaby,

soft and lingering,

the kind of scent that stays on your hands.

I’m from places where warmth is poured,  

from quiet afternoons and long exhales.  

I’m from those moments,

that every day holds a story,  

from every cup that feels like home.