Why I Love My Home

It feels so peaceful, and oh so gleeful, When I’m at my home. I play baseball on the lawn, Ending at dusk, and starting at dawn You go in the entryway when you come in the house, and get greeted by us, human or mouse. Then in the kitchen, with lots of snacks, I hear the sound of eggshells crack. Maybe it's bagels or maybe it's not, but I’m grateful to have whatever we’ve got. Now into the living room, my favourite place to read, Not a sound is heard, not even a peep. I walk into the garage, and with my love of cars, I take a minute, to love that they’re ours. I’m lucky with a roof above my head, Which is what I think when I’m in bed. In my home, which I like to roam, I open the door to my world once more. Yes, it’s my bedroom, which I call the fun room, I wrote this poem in there! Where there are cars on posters, and games with roller coasters. The stuff, the dust, some made of fluff, All feel like home to me. And then I’m back outside, Taking my scooter for a ride. I try some tricks, though some don’t work. I feel it’s good that I tried. I close the door when I’m inside, And the first thing I see, is my dog, Zoey. Zoey, oh Zoey, who loves her scratches, kisses, and hugs, And down in the basement, there are some bugs. But also the furnace room with snowshoes for hikes That’s where my Dad goes to work on bikes. Every object tells a story And that is why I love my home!