House Poem by Rachel Brewer

I stand here with my feet planted firmly on the ground,
Staring at the structure in front of me.
This house, so big and beautiful,
Rather a creepy sight to see.

I put one foot in front of the other,
And begin my journey inside.
I wonder what is beyond the front door.
If I will have to run and hide?

All the vines swirling around the windows,
And the spiders call this their home.
All the disgusting eight-legged freaks,
I wonder what else does roam.

The windows themselves are all falling apart,
And the roof really needs to be re-tiled.
I feel sorry for the house, so old and dead,
Although many remember when it smiled.

I have now made my way to the front door,
And climbed up onto the dusty pooch.
So dark and cold inside I can see,
Thinking I could have used a torch.

Oh well, too late now I suppose,
I will have to go in and face it.
I don’t suppose anyone lives here now,
Taking one look would cause most people a fit.

My reason for being here is to prove a point,
To prove that I am not scared of the make believe.
This myth they seem so desperate to prove,
I guess me they would happily deceive.

I’m waiting for that childish prank,
For someone to jump out and scream.
Waiting after for the look on my face,
Making their smiles gleam.

Although I must say that their story is true,
This house is incredibly bad.
The evil seeping from its walls,
Entering will make people mad.

So I step away from the damaged door,
I will not take the chance.
I am afraid, my friends, you will have to find,
A new monkey to make dance.

You will never get me back to that house,
Because the feeling is all of dread.
If you want me though, on any night,
I’ll be safe at home, tucked into my bed.