The scent of home is cookies cooling on the window sill,
Lysol soaking through the wooden coffee table.
The sound of home is kids laughing and dogs barking,
Birds chirping and spriklers running.
The sight of home is a gravel driveway and a crimson garage door,
Children playing and a few mud footprints.
The taste of home is porkchops and apple sauce,
Fall air and otterpops in the summer.
To me home is like lying in bed during a winter storm,
when you get out chills run up your spine and bring goosbumps to your skin.
But when you jump back in,
You can always count on the toasty blankets to warm you back up.