My Emotional Place

When I think of home, I think of a place where I can be myself, a place that I can call home. My home gives me great joy, but nevertheless, my brothers never fail to annoy. As I have a nice ice cold drink, it gives me time to think. My home is not just made of bricks, it’s made of memories and family pics. When I think of home,I see a beautiful place, like when Habitat for Humanity finish building the beautiful place, it’s like they are finishing a race. I am happy that I have a wonderful home, even though it can a bit noisesome, I am glad to share this poem to you, and to everyone who does or does not have a place that they can call home. I am so joyous that I have a secure home, and I wish everyone can have a home.