Walls

I live in a canyon,close to a dam,
my house made of concrete,
and windows made from sand.

Solid red walls,
Painted the canyon hall,
full of vibrant shades,
of rock; of clay.

Water flows slowly,
cracks in the dam,
a river, gently flowing.

Only....

Twenty feet below,
My house on a plate,
high enough to with stand,
the rivers highest flow.

From there the canyon walls,
peak high overhead,
and at 12 noon ,

daylight peaks through.

I sit by the window,
startled by a noise,

So....

I glance out the window,
as sand stings my winker.

Water flowed,
High enough to break through,
what a determinant hassle,

I'll make it through,
just swim to safety,
please get in the dory,
and float daintily.

Thunder nailed the canyon walls,
as i struggled to bolt,
but to anyone's amazement,
I settled back for my rocker.

Water flowed through,
splashed my ankles,
no chance of escape,
water enveloped my cankles.

The darkened shadow erupted,
down the canyon path,
water...
scheisse...

I should of listened,
in buying a different house,
But Now I shall parish,
As that wall of water,
Engulfs my house.