The house down on the road,
not perfect but a dream.
This is home I was told,
please try to keep it clean.

Year after year I grew,
Experiences shared.
Each year something was new,
Good or bad I had bared.

The morning wind would blow,
The breezes you could feel.
The animals would show,
Comfort to scars that heal.

I would see the blue sky,
And wonder within thought.
The Birds chirp and they fly,
what of those that are bought.

The simple things we take,
Are ones used to create.

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Youth Voices is an open publishing and social networking platform for youth. The site is organized by teachers with support from the National Writing Project. Opinions expressed by writers are their own.  See more About Youth VoicesTerms of ServicePrivacy Policy.All work on Youth Voices is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

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