Ron Kinard (c) 2-2009

snoring peacefully
tucked away, in my bed
I heard a strange noise
was in just in my head

I listened intently
not a sound to be heard
was it a critter
a mouse or a bird

arising slowly
I got to my feet
silently moving
like a Ninja, discreet

my eyes were adjusting
the night was so dark
should I stand frozen
or should I embark

the house was so silent
with an occasional creak
my nerves were on edge
my legs were so weak

I eased through the doorway
I crept down the hall
not making a sound
not wanting to fall

I glimpsed a brief movement
it was slightly ahead
someone is hiding
behind the guest bed

I wished for a weapon
I wanted a gun
should I stand still, or
tuck tail and run

I inched slightly closer
not wanting to move
I am not a hero
I have nothing to prove

passing the doorway
we stood, face to face
there, a trespasser
invading my space

screaming so loudly
at the top of my lungs
I started convulsing
and speaking in tounges

taking a swing
and hitting just air
I knew at that moment
this fight wasn't fair

I braced myself firmly
expecting a punch
nothing happened, I'm shocked
this guy's out to lunch

I got my nerve back
and reached for the light
the burgular was waiting
he was ready to fight

I noticed his moment
exactly like mine
I knew, right away
that things will be fine

I felt like a fool
realizing, my mistake
now, knowing my life
it wasn't at stake

chuckling, to myself
I went back to bed
adrinaline subsiding
for thinking, I'm dead

I laughed even harder
I even started to cry
laughing intensely as
I thought I would die

I eased back to dreamland
one thought became clearer
better planning ahead when
you're arranging a mirror