Burglars

 

The door is locked from the inside, what can the matter be?

You go around to the back door, horrified at what you see,

The door now cracked and splintered, is almost battered in,

You wonder why the neighbours, did not hear that din.

 

Burglar’s were disturbed, as they heard you try the door,

The deed box with its contents, is flung upon the floor,

Dirty footprints on the carpet  and all around your bed,

You are more than angry, you wish that they were dead.

 

They have invaded your privacy, opened up your drawers

Touched and held your underclothes, with their filthy paws

Your empty jewellery boxes are lying on the bed,

You see where they’ve been sitting, you are seeing red.

 

Your sentimental trinkets, your memories of the past,

They have all been stolen, a curse on them, you cast,

  Police then dust for fingerprints and find they are no help,

You know they kicked your little dog, when you hear her yelp.

 

The frightened yorkshire terrier, has hid herself away,

You hope some huge great boxer will bite them hard, one day,

Your nerves are almost shattered, splintered like the door,

You cannot leave the house, or they’ll come back for more,

 

Jan 2001  Copyright

Carole A M Johnson