The Burgler

He dismantled the lock, on the door at the back of the house While we slept, I later visualised him creeping around like a mouse Many materialistic and one personal possession he gathered into a large crate Laptop, jewellery, cell phones, wallets, money, credit cards and our hate He has probably fenced off most of our possessions, except the hate That will stay with him forever, even if he wanted to return it, he can’t, it’s too late The biggest possessions he took was our sense of security As a family, as a castle, as a feeling of safety, a purity He took the keys to our car, he took the car as well I hope he dies in hell, strong words over a few things to sell He left a scent, an alien odour, a different smell The phone alone Half a lifetime of memories in a phone, on a microchip A small piece of advanced technology, a futuristic strip Holding hundreds of images of a stolen past Like a horror book and we are the cast The material things are unimportant, replaceable What can’t be replaced is the feel we used to have as we sat round the table Joviality, trust, compassion, care and fun He stole all that, it’s gone