Raised

I was raised this way.
To love the wonderful, simple things.
Made to love the mood
More than the movement
Of life, in it's chaos and meaning.

Bred by simple sorts,

These folks are great.
They made me me.
They warned about some,
But not all. For if I knew it
I wouldn't be me entirely.
Learned experience is dynamic.
Enlist myself in excursions
That intertwine my meaning;
So I find myself whole,
By hands I've sculpted
From pain and love endured.
Independent, whimsical and true.
That's the stuff that holds down
When the storms roll through.