A man’s house is his castle,
And we build the ramparts tall.
Only by royal decree
May you enter in these walls.
We scurry home from work,
And lock ourselves in our towers.
We plug ourselves in
To burn the evening hours.
Once upon a time there were:
Porches with rocking chairs and swings,
Front doors kept unbarred,
“Come in” called to the doorbell’s ring.
Now:
How many neighbors do you know?
How many locks on your door?
How many people just stop by?
Interkingdom relations seem to be very poor.
My castle keeps me distant
From all kings, near and remote.
A man’s house is his castle.
How wide is your moat?
Ron "Ziroby" Romero 
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