When I close my eyes and think of home,
A picture forms in my mind, all on its own.
I see the place where I was born,
The house that kept me safe, from dusk to dawn.
The porch where I sat and watched the world go by,
The trees that swayed and rustled, reaching for the sky.
The yard where I played and ran free,
The memories of my childhood, still clear to me.
Inside the house, there were familiar sounds,
The creak of the stairs, the tick of the clock’s rounds.
The kitchen where my mother cooked with love,
The warmth of her embrace, like a cozy glove.
The rooms where I slept, and dreamed of tomorrow,
The walls that held my secrets, and chased away sorrow.
The memories of home, still vivid and true,
A place of comfort and love, where I always felt anew.