Gordon Nightingale


The woman in front looked flustered,

By herself in her little blue car.

Her car was stopped at the exit boom gate;

Those behind her couldn’t go very far.

To open the boom gate she needed a ticket

To insert into the boom control slot.

It was apparent the lady had lost hers

And now she was in a bit of a spot.

As line of cars waiting to exit

Extended halfway around the car park,

She got out of her car in a panic;

We observers thought the whole thing a lark.

She opened her doors, searched under the seats,

But her efforts were to no avail.

She hurried around for her credit card,

And the action almost turned to a fail.

She shoved the card into the opening

And the boom gate rose up as it will,

Except she had dropped the credit card

And it slid under the open door sill.

Down on knees she scrambled

To retrieve that wayward credit card,

While the boom gate hung like a guillotine

Threatening to come down really hard.

Finally, she jammed her car into gear

And shot under the gate like a rocket.

Moving forward to insert my ticket I thought

She’ll probably find it later in her pocket.

So if you have to park in a car park

Hold onto your ticket really tight,

Because if you unfortunately lose it

You may have to sleep there all night.


Gordon Nightingale is a local author and poet and is the convenor of the Daylesford U3A Writers’ Circle.