What a Magical Home Means to Me
Home is my plant pot where I can grow.
Home is a place where memories flow.
Home is a place where I can sleep tight.
Home is a place I don’t fright.
Home is a place where things are waiting,
Not a place where I feel devastating.
But sometimes this isn’t always the case,
As some people feel there a disgrace.
For some people home can be an unsafe tent.
Or a tent that feels like dents.
Sometimes homeless people feel deserted,
Because they’re hurted.
They also catch flus
which makes them feel the blues.
They feel unsafe and in danger when they go to sleep
So I’m thankful for home, to keep me warm
in an infinity of storms.
I’m thankful for the feeling of safety when I come home after a long trip out of home.
Home is where I smile knowing Home is providing me a place to survive.
Every night when I go to bed on my snuggle mattress I thank God for my
food my water and my home.
Every morning when I come out on a morning walk I’m glad to see people joyful and all the shelter provided for families.
But when I pass the shelter home I feel depressed for these poor people, having no food, no water, no home sleeping on cardboard and in dirty tents.
I felt so buried in my own feelings of anger and sadness and from what
they go through.
But this single poem that I’m writing can’t get them a home to feel the feeling of love and friends that they don’t feel right now.