the front reserved for special guests <br />tradesmen shown the back <br />the letter box earmarked, no junk mail <br />the widows neatly dressed <br />the blooming buttons sit in neat rows <br />and topiary'd bushes sculpted to impress <br />line the swept and pristine face <br />with each brick so firmly held in place <br />each feature speaks of wealth <br />but speaks not to me <br />the cameras' eyes smile securely <br />move with stealth <br />monitoring my apprehension, pensively <br />a fine imposing mansion <br />a moated castle of ostentation <br />no I did not like the way he dressed <br />or spoke or looked <br />not at all impressed.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-house-2/
