Coming home late,
in the middle of the night,
To a house that is dark,
void of any light;
The hair on your neck,
stands straight into the air,
Something is wroung,
And you know you should beware.
You reach for the light switch,
your heart is pounding faster,
but its just your little dog,
waiting for her master.
Nice write Dwayne! With the high crime nowadays you always have to be aware! *10*! Best regards Friend Thad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fun little read thanks Dwayne.