This is my home, this is what I love.

Home is a garden, where all have their own design; all are a little different, but all are sweet and fragrant. Where friends and family gather, in Summer, Spring, or Winter. Home is a magnet that can be put to the test, Where we can sleep, eat and find rest. As the evening sky dances with joyous delight, My dad’s car comes rolling, oh how I love the sight! At dinner my dad reads us stories from the Bible, but we don’t have any interesting cable. Home is a bakery full of temptations, And I think it’s good enough for all hungry nations. Every meal is evidence my mom loves us a bunch, And I know that that statement is more than a hunch. Home is a diary where all feelings are made known, Where love is a comforter, a thing to be shown. When tears and anxieties are freely released, Sisters are there to kindly appease. Home is a place to build bonds and memories, And to do that we don’t need any militaries. Adventures take root and are acted upon here, And here we come back from adventures far and near. This is the place where I’m glad to call my home, And I have just one thing to say before I end this poem. Yes, everyone’s home is special, that is very true, But only your home is unique, special for you.