Burgling. - Poem by Lizzy Tomlinson
The burglar hides behind the shed,
He waits until we're all in bed.
And when he knows we're fast asleep.
Up to the window, he does creep.
In the window~frame, he puts a tool.
Grips it real tight, then gives a pull.
But worry not, he does no harm,
He's activated our alarm.
Comments about Burgling. by Lizzy Tomlinson
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye