Home

I come home to the smell of cinnamon in December I come home to sound of my brother laughing My sister talking And my parent's happy faces I come home to my brother asking to play I come from random movie nights And a bowl a veggie chips By my side I come from waiting for ever to brush my teeth I come from waiting for the Olympics with my mum Home to me is an old house that smells like my nana Home to me is reading books That I'll never remember That we only take out in December Home to me is soft blankets enveloping me in a warm hug in January My home is rushing waves on Fundy shore My home is a jungle full of couleurs My home is a door open to anything Home is where my friends came and left Home is a treasure chest full of golden moments Home is a light hose leading me through the storm Home is the sound of The dogs barking The cat purring The rain dripping The floor creaking in the middle of the night Home is the sound of voices talking on the tv at 10pm Home is a place where I first watched my first baseball game Home is where the blue jays lost their game Home is where they served the biggest scopes of ice cream The scent of pine needle candles in the winter The feel of soggy shirt against my back in May The sight of the solar eclipse on April 8th, 2024 The thumping sound of my musique blasting through the room The taste of my super salted tofu The meaning of home Aren't the big moments to me It's the little ones that make it home Even if it's just my great grandma’s recipes That's what makes my home mine It's the small pieces that come together To make a beautiful puzzle that I call home