Coming home late,
in the middle of the night,
To a house that is dark,
void of any light;
The hair on your neck,
stands straight into the air,
Something is wroung,
And you know you should beware.
You reach for the light switch,
your heart is pounding faster,
but its just your little dog,
waiting for her master.
Dwayne Bailey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coming-home-late/
