What Home Means to Me

What home means to me is that it’s a place where it’s very, very, very warm. Have you ever lived in a comfortable and soft house? I have. Best of all, my blanket is as SOFT as 100 cotton balls. It feels like I am lying on the blanket, eating pizza. Today, if you thought of everything, wait a sec, did you think about going home and sleeping? Probably not. Try to make an appropriate poem that makes you sleepy: Here is a lovely sight, The sun comes out but you’re still white. Once you’ll get home, you will feel casual, But it doesn’t happen as usual. There’s no homework, no school, and no lectures. Like a soft and furry feather. At night, the sun goes away, And the star comes out to play. With no scary dreams, And morning screams. With no arguments, because it’s your own, Warm and comfortable home. If it works properly like a home, All you have to do is thank your poem. The next morning, another captivating day has turned your sad face into a smiley and happy face. Special thanks to the lovely sense of my regular home.