Dear Emily, if you should ask
This question: “What is home?”
I’d say it’s not just walls and doors,
But where your heart can roam.

When we're adventurous, home is a castle.
We bravely guard the gates.
The towers rise high above us,
And we wonder what awaits.

When mischief stirs, home is a ship,
With sails that snap and fly.
Riding the wind, we search for gold—
What treasure meets our eye?

When we dream, home is a station—
A space station—up so high.
We drift past planets, ships, and stars,
And watch distant comets fly.

Grumbling stomachs? Home is a restaurant,
With plates piled high to eat.
We spill the juice, we burn the toast,
Then smile and take our seat.

The couch itself is a secret world—
A soft and quiet place.
You stack the cushions, I bring snacks,
We hide without a trace.

Our home is a fire station,
When we’re brave and ready to roll.
Our sirens wail, our hearts beat fast,
As we charge to meet the goal.

Curiosity sparks! Home’s a classroom,
Supplies overflow from the drawer.
We write our names on the carpet with tape,
After the fifth time we ask for some more.

While relaxing, home is an ocean reef.
It's quaint, and silent, and still.
But soon underneath, some clownfish pop out,
And we meet a manta ray who's chill.

When boredom strikes, home's a desert,
Just dunes off in the horizon.
But we ride on camels, find cool springs,
Then build a sand city together.

When we're cozy, home is an igloo.
We’re melting the frost off the walls.
When the polar cub roars at our doorstep,
We go outside and throw some snowballs.

We’ve imagined worlds like no one else,
With tape, boxes, glue, and strings.
Now Emily, what is home to you,
Underneath these lovely things?