Where Home Lives

Where home lives By: Tehzeeb Chowdhury Home is not just walls where I sleep at night, Not bricks or doors or a single light. Home is a feeling that knows my name, A quiet comfort that never feels the same. It wakes the sun that slips through the pane, Spreading soft gold like a gentle rain. The house breathes slowly, calm and warm, Holding us close even when we’re torn. Home is my mum, with patient grace, Love written clearly on her face. Her footsteps whisper across the floor, Promising safety, nevertheless Her voice can calm the loudest fear, Turning heavy thoughts into something clear. Home is my dad steady and true, Strong in all the things he does not say too. He fixes what breaks, both seen and unseen. With hands that have learned what love can mean. His laughter echoes, deep and wide, Filling the spaces I keep inside. Home is my baby sister, small but bright, A spark of joy, a burst of light Her giggles dance through every room, Her cries pull hearts together in bloom. When she wraps her small but warm hands around me, Gentle and tight, I feel important in her tiny sight. Home smells like meals shared side by side, And sounds like stories we never hide. It holds our tears, our laughs, our days Our small mistakes and forgiving ways. When the world feels loud, uncertain, and cold, Home is the place where I am bold. Where I can rest and just be me. Without pretending who I should be. Home is not perfect, and that is true, Home is my family, my start, my end- Where my heart returns, again and again.