Home Less Poem by Ima Ryma

There was a run down shack next door
To my house. Abandoned for years,
It was just an ugly eyesore.
Oil gets put on the squeaky gears,
So my complaints to city hall
Were many and not at all meek.
Finally, I got the phone call
That a crew would be out next week
To demolish and clear away.
I hoped it all was not just talk,
And went on a cruise holiday.
I returned home to quite a shock.

It now is just an empty lot.
The shack's still there. My house is not.