Aryan

Grade 5

Etobicoke
Ontario

A Home Is a River

A home is a river,
Flowing with joy and love.
The river rushes away,
Quickly like a thousand doves.

I am but a sapling, under a mighty tree,
My home helps me grow, with love and glee,
My roots underneath are history,
But my branches reach the sky,

As I jump into the river, I dive into all the love.
Above me, I see there is a graceful dove,
As I go deeper, I see the light,
Just like the stars in the darkest of night,
I see a crow with a stick in her beak,
But she sees a home it is what we sees,
A home, it is what we seek.

Homes are the thousand winds that blow,
Homes are the softly falling snow,
Homes are the gently shower of rain,
Homes are the field of ripening grain,
A home can be anything you choose
A place to play, or a place to snooze.

Some people are lucky to have a home,
But other people don’t have a home,
Not even one to call their own.
Maybe if we help with all our heart,
Homes will be everywhere,
Flowing with heart.