An Ode to Ann Arbor

This poem was published in the Ann Arbor Observer when I was a little kid. I wanted to share this now that I’m back in Ann Arbor once more:

My favorite place, Ann Arbor, my grandparent’s house. I go once or twice a year, my whole life.

I imagine the smell of the turkey on Thanksgiving day, prepared by grandma. I imagine the smell of grandpa’s old books, all over the house.

Their house reminds me of happy; a peaceful meadow, a break from life.

In Michigan, it gets really cold in the winter. The cold bites at you like a wild wolf. But it’s all worthwhile if the snow comes. The snow is magic; a Christmas song.

Michigan football games. One of 110,000 fans. You’re on a huge roller coaster.

No idea if your team will win or lose, but the memory of Michigan is what counts.