So proud I can't stand it

Quick bragging rights about to be exerted. This poem was written by my 12-year old niece. I think it's pretty amazing - not just for a 12-year old, but for anyone. Maybe she'll end up being the writer in the family.

Where I'm From

I am from books,
From dusty shelves.
I am from sand in the sandbox.
Brown and wet, usually formed
Into sand pies.
I am from the old
Sandalwood tree whose branches
Held me while I read.

I am from chocolate and guitars.
From Aurea and Tom.
I'm from the musicians
And the readers.
From 'eat your vegetables'
To 'Jesus, Maria, Joseph!'
I'm from Eagles' Wings,
And a satin communion gown.

I'm from my grandmas' branches,
Pastina and rice with bacon.
From my great grandma's Christmas visits,
To my aunt's magnificent drawings.
On the dusty top shelf where dozens of albums,
Every page filled with pictures.
Old and recent.
A memory, happy or sad, captured on paper.
I am like one flower in an entire meadow full of flowers.
All around me are my family.
Some still a bud.
Some in bloom.
Some starting to wither and droop.