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The Meaning of Home

My home is my life, Too hard to cry, Too many days, too many to leave by, 12:00 past your bedtime, Going to bed and thinking about home. When will we go? To have à place of your own, It's hard to go, And it's hard to stay, No more bed, love, kind, home. No more there, no more here, There is no home, means no life, But the lights gloom and bloom, As I just realized it was a dream, I wake up to the sun glowing, The tree’s blowing. Everything is open, So many things to leave by, It must be à dream, It's too real.. I realized, it's not à dream, It's real! To much kindness, love, I must go, But I can't leave, it is too much like a blooming flower, Not never to leave, and always staying. A place like home is where I need to be.


Grade 5

Windsor, Ontario

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