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Twas a night in late August

~~ A Poem by OWK


Twas a night in late August, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The front door was locked, and the deadbolt was thrown,
All was safe and secure, in our castle of stone.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Pokemon, danced in their heads.
And mom in her t-shirt, and me in my flannel,
Were watching intently, Discovery channel.

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
I fumbled as always, the vinyl-clad sash.

The moonlight was faint on my manicured lawn,
As I peered through the gloom, and I stifled a yawn.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a vanload of men in full military gear.

The young ninja-clad driver was lively, and quick.
He stepped out on the curb, with his door-bashing stick.
With the speed of a cobra, his agents, they came,
As he whistled and shouted, and called them by name.

Now Chalmers and Davidson, you take the back,
And when I give the signal, commence the attack.
To the top of the porch men, stay close to the wall,
Now BASH away! BASH away! BASH away all!

And then they gained entry, a matter of course.
The doorframe was splintered and shattered by force.
Then up to the housetop, his agents they flew,
In the steady advance, of a well-practiced crew.

And soon I heard men at the top of the stair,
That’s when my thoughts turned to the kids sleeping there.
So I turned and jumped over my bed in a bound,
As the door was crashed in, I heard "down on the ground".

He was dressed all in black from his head to his toe.
And he wore a broad mask, so his face didn’t show.
Then he lined up the sights of the gun he possessed,
Which was clearly a chore in that black armored vest.

His eyes—how they twinkled, that’s all I could tell,
Of the person who faced me and issued a yell.
"To the ground" he repeated, with hasty precision,
And the bead he had drawn, didn’t leave for decision.

So silently raging, to carpet I fell,
From my wife there was issued a terrified yell.
While they tore up my bedroom, and left it a wreck,
And I scarcely could breathe for the boot on my neck.

From afar in the house I could hear their ransacking,
And as meek as a church mouse a "Daddy, what's happening".
And with that still small voice, and his cry of alarm,
I resolved a great price, should they bring him to harm.

It was then that they read from the warrant they held,
And I struggled to listen, I broke free and yelled.
You idiot bastards, the problem is plain,
This is Worthington Terrace, not Worthington Lane.

Well he spoke not a word, but reviewed paperwork.
Then he looked at his underling, called him a jerk.
And then quick as he came, his accomplices rose,
"My mistake", were his words "didn’t mean to impose".

Then he sprang to his van, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like the down from a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as the drove out of sight,
"Good thing no one was hurt, and to all a good night".


Printer Version

The right of citizens to bear arms is just one more guarantee against arbitrary government, one more safeguard against tyranny, which though now appears remote in America, history has proven to be always possible. — Senator Hubert H. Humphrey

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