Meaning of Home

A house is a thing. A shelter from the cold, Made of four walls and a roof. It is just a structure. But when a family moves in, It fills with memories, Good and bad. It becomes a home. A place I had from the day I was born, A place I spent the most time in, A place I know best, Home. The smell of home welcomes me, The roots, the memories. A place I can be free, Where I can be myself. I love playing the guitar with my dad, Watching tv with my mom, Playing card games with my brother, But I love my home most, where all these things happen. I am lucky to have a home, A place to come back to after a bad day. Everyday it feels new, But it’s still the same old place I call home. My home protects me, From the cold, heat and rain, From the judgement, pain and stress. It fills me with love and joy. Many out there are unfortunate, No home, no protection. I am grateful I can help, By writing this poem about home.