so i wrote a poem.

for english.
the assignment: write about anything that has to do with the home. your home.
a person, thing, pet.

it's called "Up the stairs and to the Left"
i guess.
as you can tell, I'm a little new to this poetic writing stuff.

A girl who combines faith, perseverance and speed into an entire way of life,
needs somewhere to slow it all down.
That one place where dreams are born
and nostalgia is a frequent visitor, due to the amount of memories hung on the walls.
A place that's home to the most intimate of conversations,
the most crazy of dance moves,
and those sleepless nights with the girls just talking and laughing endlessly.
Where music sneaks through the walls and closed door and creeps into the neighbor's house.
Where it isn't a crime to scream and cry and just pour out exactly how you feel,
even if it's only to the stuffed giraffe pillow on the bed.
Where sunsets are admired from the window,
and sunrises are uninvited due to the closed curtain and sound sleeper in the sheets.
Where life's questions are answered just by those quiet times in the mornings, a glass of orange juice
and the words in the best selling book of all time.
Where, if even for a while,
this girl can get away from it all.
from this "freeway of life" so to speak.
this freeway where everybody seems to be going above the speed limit.