Home of the Century

Home is supper with grandparents, A fancy table, and fancy food, Playing piano and showing off my skills. Home is too many books, and too little space, Reading till my eyes go heavy, And then falling asleep. Home is four people on one couch, Huddled watching tv, Eating chips and junk food, And bickering for space. Home is a creepy basement, With creepy sneaky spiders, Packed with sentimental junk, We just can’t give away. Home is the creak of the stairs, Early in the morning, Pick where you step carefully, You don’t want to wake them up! My home roars like a lion, Every time there’s a storm, When the power goes out we light candles, And tell spooky stories, That aren’t spooky at all.