When I Think of Home

When I think of home, I think of my comfortable bed, as I rest my head. When I think of home, I think of the smell of my mom’s candle burning on the kitchen table. When I think of home, I think of the sound of my parents calling out “good night” before I turn off the lights. When I think of home, I think of the sight of the cars passing by, at night. And in the morning when I awake, I breathe in the smell of fresh pancakes. As I get closer, I also see, a cold cup of milk waiting for me. When I think of home, I think of the delicious taste of the cake that my mom bakes. Oh, it’s so good! But what about the people who aren’t eating as they should? A life without shelter, but there must be someone willing to be a helper. I wish that everyone had a safe place like me, to be themselves, be loved, and love deeply.