The Sweet Memory of Home

As I walk home from a boring day of school, My thoughts and memories a halabolu. Soft and sweet memories roam my brain Wanting to be home again. Home is my happy place where children play And time likes to race. Wonderful memories are created there The walls will never be bare. When I say home I do not mean a house So listen up and be as quiet as a mouse. My home is such a wonderful place covered with Friendly people who won't judge others by their race. This tiny island barely seen on the maps Has the friendliest people that will make you gasp. This is a place that many call home And I'm hoping I can help with a poem. This place makes me happy and get ready to embrace, The wonderful culture that is in this place. Home to me may be different to you, But I hope everyone will feel the joy of home too. A home is a home no matter what it is like Having a home is like riding a bike; You will never forget what your home is like. Being at home you will always feel at peace And that is the meaning of this piece. To help struggling families so they can have a home. By just simply writing a poem.

William

Grade 6

Mount Pearl, Newfoundland and Labrador

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