Home- A Poem
The wind pulls up my hair
Twirling each strand in another direction,
Feels cold to the touch but is relaxing.
The old tree in the yard is still empty and barren
Impatient for its leaves to return, as am I.
And a chill crawls down my spine
There's an eerie vibe in the air.
Maybe it's that old creepy house down the road
Believed to be haunted.
But I smile none the less
Because there's no place like this
And rather I care to admit it or not
This is home.
The hand always prepared for a high five on the map
Or seems to be waving "hello".
It is so welcoming
That no matter where I am
Michigan will always be my home.
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