The Meaning of Home

This home rests in the sky, Balancing while the babies cry, When Mama comes, they’ll settle down, And enjoy the food that Mama found. This home is a hole deep down, Were moles can burrow and settle down And when the dogs come sniff them out, They’ll find another place to hide. This home is one of sticks, Made by a beaver, and with a flick, He goes down inside to hide, From whatever danger lurks outside. My home is one of bricks, Made by man and machine to fit A loving family, warm and cozy, And a safe place, this little house, With me, mom, dad makes us! All these homes so vastly different, Made from sticks, twigs and bricks, Or tunneled out from soil and dirt, They all are lovely places too, Though it might not seem so to me and you. Every one of us deserves a place, Though it might seem like not much space, In an alley or under a bridge Sadly some are living there, lying there in open air, Oh what, oh what a shame! Thank you to Habitat for Humanity For giving them a place, Like the one that I live in, No matter where the space.