What Home Means to me
When I think of home I think of stacks on stacks of lovely books.
My loving mom, dad and brother hugging me close.
I think of the beautiful ginger smell bouncing off the walls.
I think of the geese that fly over as fast as leaves fall.
I think of my trampoline as I bounce to the sun’s beaming lights.
I think of the pictures on my wall with my family, friends and all.
I think of my cushioned bed with colors of green and white.
My warm pillow ready for me to lay down and drift to the land
where dreams come to meet to have a good night’s sleep.