One Small Poem About a Lot of Beautiful Homes

Home is not always a building; it’s a safe place where you can have any feeling. Be yourself, family forgives, and the memories you make will go on to live. At home you can lie on a soft bed asleep, while your family is trying to not make a peep. And if you wake scared in the middle of night, someone’ll come in and make it all right. If I had magical glasses that could see feelings, some homes would look like waterfalls, the sources being love endlessly poured from the hearts of your kin. Others would look like roller coasters of emotion, constantly going up, down, out then in. Chaotic but fun and as bright as the sun. Home means loving unimaginably strong, and everyone there feels like they belong. It has special people that bring along glee, and together they make a small community. Nothing in the world is ever perfect you see, but home is the closest it ever will be.