The Little House

A long time ago and far away
    by a country lake
    behind the two big houses,
stood a little house
to which I was introduced
at the tender age of six.

It was a scary place with no lights
    old weathered wood
    and a most unpleasant odor
which seemed to simmer
'round it in the sizzling August heat
with the flies.

It was a very small building;
    cracks in the walls
    letting in eerie rays of sunlight;
had only a couple of seats
and did not protect me in the cold of winter.

I had two fears each time I entered;       
    that I would get locked in there
    or that a snake would come up
through the seat and bite my butt;
both ideas terrifying to a six year old.

I remember the day we moved
    and the last thing I saw
    as we drove away
was that weather-beaten little house
with the half moon on the door.