My perfect place is not quiet or still
It is not in a far-off forest or a broken down mill
It is not calm and unknown
My perfect place is my home
Where my siblings do chatter, sing, and cry
Where I often hear the words ‘see you, jerk, bye’
Here I am admired, appreciated unlike any other place
In this place, my looks don’t matter, neither does my race
This a place with cookie crumbs on the floor
And sticky handles on the door
Where I often smell sweat
Whether it belongs to my brother or my pet
A place where I see smiles and tears
This place has kept me happy for years
In this place, I sometimes taste overcooked food
Which can taste like something a witch would’ve brewed
So here is my perfect place that I love to roam
Because there’s no perfect place like my imperfect home.