Here's a poem that I wrote years ago and never liked so much as I do today:
A man,
Walks alone,
Down the road,
Toward a structure made of stone,
He calls home.
Bolts the windows, locks the doors,
Shuts the shutters,
Shuts them tight,
No stranger may intrude,
Into the night,
Not a breeze,
Not a single beam of light,
Not a face,
Not a face,
“How splendid is my absolute privacy!”
Is what he says,
As he goes to lie in what he calls
A bed!
Lies to rest,
Shuts his eyes.
--
--
Shut your eyes,
Lie in comfort,
Rest in peace,
Have your absolutely private
Dark dreadful deadly dreams!
