Here is my poem (a Shakespearian Sonnet) for last week’s prompt, Feeling Safe:
The Shape of Safety
A shape must have at least four sides enclosed
to house something safely from the weather.
But desperation could use, I suppose,
a single side with the proper tether.
Though breeze let in from each and every side,
makes me pray that from above comes the worst.
When choosing between walls or roof to hide,
does shyness or weather decide the first?
Beset by wind, you would, of course, crave walls,
neighbors could also make you feel the same.
You would be amazed in your starlit halls,
that is, of course, until their came a rain.
I’ve dwelled a lot of places in my time,
so safe, I think not of weather or crime.