Home
By Lindsey Sellman
Home is a place for all
Though it looks strange
From the eyes of another
Home is cracked sidewalks, and
Barking dogs,
Pancakes on a Saturday morning,
Creaking front door,
And a golden glow pouring in my window
Home is a place that we all blossom
Though we may get lost
From time to time,
Grass too long,
A rusting tire swing
Rooms full of love,
That may take awhile to find again
Though our roots always lead
To the front door