Saint Nicholas Inverted

a twisted wrist, a jilted lock
and a burglar begins his day
whilst unbeknownst to us he sneaks
in the utmost careful way

with nary a single page turned
nor a shirt left out of place
quietly searching through our life he flows
with a dancer's spinning grace

and what he takes I cannot tell
for the dancer dances well
about the bed and office
leaving that which he cannot sell

like St. Nicholas, up and out he flies
with a twinkle and a leap
through the backdoor, up the drive way
and disappearing down the street

upon arrival, all looks fine and good
but quickly shatters with a shock
an intruder's come and robbed us
through the shattered backdoor lock

who might this be, I cannot tell
nor will I ever know
for the bandit lived to strike again;
the dancer stole the show.

©2004 by Mike Bogle -- All Rights Reserved