Shape of Home

Poetry, Writer life

When I was a little girl, I used to draw a home,
Remotely in this shape, made up of bricks and wooden door.
For a long time, that was how I drew a home. After all, that’s what I was taught.
My home didn’t look like that, it didn’t matter to me though.
I was terrible at art and that was the easiest home to draw.
Strong building to shelter us, that’s what I thought home was.
But oh dear, I was so wrong. Home is where the heart is.
Not made up of just bricks and stones, forged by love instead.
Home is where family is. Home is where we feel the safest.
Home doesn’t always need to be a building; it could just be a warm embrace!

For NaPoWriMo Day 9. Poem in the shape of an object.