The wind howled last night,
huffing and puffing
against my clapboard house.
The moon rose
to its fevered pitch and
still the wind paced outside.
I lay cuddled in my bed
all the while, secure.
I’d framed my home
with concrete and steel,
you see, the facade of wood
an afterthought.
And though he tried,
he failed,
and my house stood squat
while I lived inside.


Posted for the A-Z Challenge: “B”
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