The Gift of Home

Home is a place where you store all your important files. Birthdays, vacations, times that encourage smiles. Home is like a gift, all wrapped up in lace, It's like the sunshine, dancing on your face. Mom, dad, me, even the brother, The family of four depends on each other. My bedroom, with all its stuffies and the colourful door, Is a place where I spent hours racking up my gaming scores. Whenever the weather decided to rage, My family and I would read a book, carefully discussing every page. The pictures on the wall, the ones you see as you climb up the stairs, Each one has a story it’s trying to share. The very first time I stepped into my house, Is a mark in my life that I often recount. Home is a candle, lighting up the way, It’s so much more than a house in which you stay. It’s also a mirror, reflecting my past, Made from glass, it’s loyal and steadfast. My pillow is warm when I slip into the sheets, It gives me comfort in ways nothing ever beats. The coziest place in my home is, of course, My reading corner, with my favorite books: tales of drama and remorse. Once I turn the first page, I am hooked Onto adventures of every kind, That I don’t have to go far to find. Home is where my family and I share stories and such, But the love in my home is never too much.