Lie to Me
The automatic garage door opens
Its overhead light merging
With the Audi headlamps
Pulling into the drive
Early Sunday morning.
The neighboring homes
Shuttered in darkness
Keep its occupants isolated
From the disturbance
Of mechanisms and motors
Nearly all long gone in deep sleep.
Upstairs, a mother and child
Turn their bodies in reaction
To creaks on the floor
Which subconsciously
Feeds their minds
With secrets and lies.
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Lovely imagery and story behind the poem.
Thank you very much. 😉