Michelle

Grade 6

Windsor
Ontario

What home is to the lost…

I do not belong here.
I am nowhere.
You could say I’m homeless.
Like I can say life is heartless.
When did it get so hard?
Finding a home,
Maintaining one.
Little by little, things do look up, though.
The sun will rise everyday, despite the night before.
You can’t choose where your home is,
But you can choose what it is.
I hang my coat here,
My shoes are kicked off here.
It may not be warm,
But we stay here anyway.
Even if it’s temporary.
We don’t know what the future holds,
And I’m not sure if we’re ready.
But home is adaptation,
and I am adapting.
I am home.