I built the house
solidly
and strong–
heavy shutters guard the windows,
strong bolts secure the doors–
an unmovable house,
unshakably safe.

I stand on the street,
admiring my house,
my sturdy, inpenetrable house. 

An old woman creaks by,
leaning on her walker;
"Quite the house," she says.

"Yes," I say proudly,
though slightly annoyed by the intrusion.
This won't happen once I'm inside,
I think.

She chuckles, shuffling on:
"What a blessing
you've locked yourself out."

Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.