CLOAKROOM TALES...

A short retreat room,
Gone by the term washroom.
Visited by all mortals,
Feeding not on metals.

Home to life-changing decisions,
An essential structure in all regions.
Serving beyond relief,
A strategy room for the thief.


In it boyfriends get dumped,
In weakness ex-girlfriends are duped.
Women retouching their make-up,
Drugged men shaken to wake up.


A distinctive frown going without notice,
Too scary if you ate lettuce.
A lion conceding to the trebling sound,
Yet an obese drops no pound…


Crazy fancies cloud a downloading mind,
Driving fancy automobiles that you’ll never find.
Financial plans completed and reports compiled,
Yet in sobriety even trivial dilemmas are piled.


Ladies engage in cock fights over men,
Financial crises roasting men in the oven.
Immature minds scribble on clear walls,
A shameless adult finger before night falls.


A smile of relief terminates the retreat,
A toilet is home to a biological treat.
Restoring underpants you nod crazily,
Over the drama you engaged in lazily.