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