My home sounds like peace,
But our peace breaks,
Like a glass vase falling,
Into the yeast.
We have no slang,
But we talk like a bang.
When the phone rang,
It’s people asking “Help!”
We are a box of chocolates,
Sometimes we’re nutty,
Sometimes we’re standard and subtle.
But that isn’t all,
We have a cat who’s not a piece of cake,
Her name is Pam,
Pam loves plucking plants,
This is not nice, especially for my mom.
My home, not what I expect to be a home,
We seem to be cut off from technology,
But I have a lot of personal tech,
All to myself.
My home, not the worst, but can be improved,
Not that we would move.
My home, not a party ground, or else it would be destroyed,
But it will always have a unique groove.