When I think of home


When I think of home, I think of a chromatic fall
spent playing the sport I love, football.
Or with my friends at warm bonfires,
The aroma of cider mills and hay rides, the things that I admire.

When I think of home, I think of bitter winter nights,
Pondering out the window watching snow flakes drop ever so light.
The crinkle of rapping paper in my hand,
Sounding like a high school marching band.






When I think of home, I think of the brilliant flowers,
The splash of puddles and warm air coming back after the may showers.
The smell of spring weather running through my nose,
The clean grass beginning to show.


When I think of home, I think of the burning dense air of summer,











































































No school for all the kids But when its comes it is a bummer.
kids laughter on play grounds not feeling alone,
That’s what I think of when I think of home.