My Home

My house is not grandiose

It’s not your traditional picket fence

A green lawn with garden gnomes 

No, it’s apartment like, but it’s home

My house is small but not cramped

Cozy one might say

Warm in the winter and cool in the summers

My room is my favorite part of the house

Because in the July afternoons

it glows a brilliant yellow

As if the sun had stopped to rest 

In the middle of the place

My house is not quiet.

Whether it’s the pitter patter of my dogs feet

Or laughter as my family enjoys a meal

Our voices mingle with one another

As we celebrate the small joys of our day

My house is a boat

As I lie in bed, I can feel it rocking me to sleep

The foundation creaks and groans 

From the wind whipping at the windows

That I view as sails. As I think of these

Things, I slowly drift into slumber

 My house has all wood flooring

Except in my room

It is the fluffiest carpet in the world

But carpets can stain

Carpets can be vulnerable 

I too have parts of me that 

Are made of carpet

But they’re protected by wood 

Maybe to much wood

My house is not grandiose

It’s not big nor is it quiet

My house is not a lot of things

In fact, it’s not even a house

But it’s something that’s made of love

It is my home

Alright so I have to write about what I learned in writing this. I learned how to really utilize imagery.