This is an old poem I found in my archive. It goes here now because it describes so well that feeling of being home alone… I am, once more, supervised, thank goodness. Who knows what other trouble I could’ve gotten into.
A Walk Alone at Night
It starts with an itchy feeling
between my shoulder-blades
as if someone is watching me.
It’s not as if the feeling fades,
rather, it grows until the shades
and spirits gather thick
and so I spin around
keys in hand
And so I walk on trying not
to freak out, telling myself
when it feels so much
And as an added bonus, I’ll highlight here a new item in my Zazzle store – a t-shirt that reads “I’m home alone with no adult supervision. I think I should begin using power tools immediately.”