Throughout my house, there is poetry. Dickinson, Shakespeare, Poe, and many more. The most important one to me, however, is the name that belongs to my father. His poetry is framed with pictures of his subjects. It cries out the emotions of one at 12, 18, and 21. My father was a poet, as was his father, as am I because of them. Poetry brings us together. It marks our past, and brings hope for the future. It speaks of lessons learned and tides turned. My life has been filled with poetry, and so I write.