Without a ‘by your leave:’
They entered.
No longer a castle.
Now a treasure trove to mine.
And become not mine.
What lies beneath?
A need for money?
A chance to say ‘fuck u?’
To laugh at the hard workers, the savers or the credit card spenders?
Perhaps they are bored genius,
Who learned no maths or English?
What’s worse is they’ll wait ’til it’s all back,
Then take again.
Their free cash ‘n’ carry.
They made no mess.
They carefully removed the ‘weak’ door.
They methodically searched the house
For goodies to sell on Ebay, down the pub, at the car boot.
Their victims?
No sentimentality.
The family heirlooms were already packed for sale.
An inconvenience.
A niggling worry about the missing car keys, the neighbours.
Cut off by an errant computor, a DS brainscore lost.
Took a day to tell No. 1 Son.
Maybe resignation to today’s world.
(C) Louisa Davison Feb 09
Marlborough Writers 