Vanessa

Grade 6

Vancouver
British Columbia

My Home Poem

A house is just a house,
Made of concrete and wood,
But this is my special place,
This is my home,
And no one else’s home is like mine,

A home where I throw tantrums,
But also a home where I cool down, counting backwards from ten,
A home where I can’t sleep at night, too excited for tomorrow,
But a home where I struggle to get out of bed every morning.
A home where my mom gives me long and boring lectures about homework,
But a home where my mom always gives me a goodnight kiss.
A home where I hang my qipao, made of silk with intricate embroidery, flaming red peony, passed down from generations,
But also a home where I store memories, dusty pictures of the olden days
A home where my family rushes to get ready in the morning to get to school/work,
But also a home where some days you could hear a pin drop.
A home in the middle of nowhere,
But a home where I feel safe to sleep each night,
Among the drifting red and orange maple leaves, landing on my window sill.

A house is just a house,
Made of concrete and wood,
But this is my special place,
This is my home,
And no one else’s home is like mine,