Fill in the Blanks Poetry

I am from gladiola fields, from big mountain skies and flatland sod farms.
I am from four handhewn log cabins, wood smoke and canoes that splash us into the water with a chuckle.
I am from the pilfered mountain laurel, the lowland blueberries perfuming the air
I am from obsessive planning and endless backseat Oldsmobile rides, from Rattlesnake Pete and a line of women middle-named Olena and another line of Kates.
I am from alcoholism and co-dependency and reject both.
From my locked flashlit bedroom and open kerosene lamped lofts where evreryone sees.
I am from Ichabod Crane in a black flowing cape who tells me I hold the book wrong. I leave and don't look back.
I'm from a place where Buffalo never roam, perfectly set tables and canned peas.
From early death in a senseless war, the 60's lack of a big picture, and a grief that colors life forever on.
I am a sole survivor, a keeper of the archives, an orphan in my old age. I can only count to one.

Later I will put up info on where this came from and where to find the template- I have to run to go finsih upholstering chairs which frosts my earlobes because I have Things To Do in the Studio! Hope I am back soon!