Home is where we can be silent and still be heard.
Where you can ask and find out who you are.
Where people can laugh with you about yourself.
Where sorrow is divided and joy multiplied.
Where we share and love and grow.

I hope that you believe me,
for I wouldn’t tell a lie.
I cannot turn my science homework in
and this is why:
I messed up the assignment
that you gave us yesterday.
It burbled from its test tube
and went slithering away.
It wriggled off the table,
and it landed with a splat,
convulsed across my bedroom floor
and terrorized the cat.
It shambled down the staircase
with a horrid glorping noise.
It wobbled to the family room
and gobbled all my toys.
It tumbled to the kitchen
and digested every plate.
That slimy blob enlarged
with every item that it ate.
It writhed around the living room
digesting lamps and chairs,
then snuck up on our napping dog
and caught him unawares.
I came to school upset today.
My head’s in such a fog.
But this is my excuse:
You see, my homework ate my dog.