At the house of Dursley, on Privet Drive
Nothing is fair and nowhere to hide
Harry is the servant, the thing, the freak
He now feels that this is his peak
Nothing better will ever come his way
No acknowledgement or congrads to his own dismay
Today is his birthday, the eleventh one at that
No presents, no cake he thought as he sat
Under the stairs in a cupboard he is,
The only place that he could call his
Spiders and dark it might be
But it was Harry Potter's sanctuary
Free from Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley
How could I end up here he thought dully
He crept on out of his cupboard that morning
Looking around for a sign or a warning
The Dursley's were eating in the kitchen down the hall
The were no decorations, no balloons at all
He should have known and expected nothing more
Just look at his attire, the ragged sweater that he wore
Harry looked to his right where the front door stood
He would escape out right now, if only he could
He looked through the window and astonished by the sight
Privet Drive was blanketed, it almost looked like night
Owls swooped in from every which way
Harry was confused, did they see some sort of prey?
An owl by the door acted nothing like its kind
Another owl flew in with a object tied with twine
It pushed a letter throught he mail slot
And there Harry stood, frozen in shock
First by the owl's such strange action
Then by something else but only for a fraction
He looked from the window to the curious letter
He stepped closer to the door for his look to be better
No, it had not been a trick of the light
His name on that letter he saw in his sight
He walked toward the post cautious and slow
Who would write to him? But soon he would know
He entered the kithcen and set down the mail
Rereading the words as slow as a snail
Could it really be his? What was it for?
Too bad the letter was knocked to the floor
Pudgy Dudley rushed to it and started to read
"It's for him!" ,Dudley said but there was no need
Uncle vernon snatched the letter in a flash
"No! It can't be! Balderdash!"
As quick as the shape of Harry's scar
Uncle Vernon pulled back his arm quite far
He then tossed the letter into the fire
And pushed Harry out of the room to conspire
Strong grief fell over that poor boy, Harry
He didn't deserve this , he was never treated fairly