Home Like A Dream

Home is not something I can see, yet still the thought of it comforts me. It’s where I’m with my loving and caring mother, my sisters, and brothers. Where there is a roof over my head, I can be all snug in my warm bed. Though my parents are apart, my love for them both is deep in my heart. I enjoy tasting and baking brownies or cakes with my mother and playing games with my brother. It’s also where I feed my pet fish with a wish of my family together forever. Home is where love lasts a little longer, and family bond is a little stronger. There is sweet smelling syrup from maple trees, with leaves red, orange, and green. They dance with the wind as it whistles softly through the streets. I can hear the sound of the clock ticking, and my keyboard clicking, as I type this poem about my home. This is only a small part of how I feel, but I know my home is real.