The Memory of Home

The Memory of Home I was born in Albania A tiny place in Europe you’ve never heard of But when I was eight we moved to Canada And now we have to sell the very place I took my first steps in Once upon a time I would come home from school Only to smell and hear sizzling oil That’s how I knew grandma was home The place where I grew up will now be out of reach And the open book of that house will now have to close Forever out of reach never to be seen again Home is like hot cocoa you drink on an icy day Home is like a jacket you wear in fall First it’s cold then at last it’s warm They say home is where the heart is But there is more than my heart in that house In that house lie gifts in the walls, Happiness lies on the floor and love in the kitchen


Grade 5

Dartmouth, Nova Scotia

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