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.
