It was so tight, he could not know,
if there was room to get inside.
Might need to have another go,
he didn't want to scrape her hide.
The tip (we Aussies call it hood)
was itching to recuperate
from heat and stress. Inside it would
just stay suspended in a state
of bittersweet and warm surrounds,
enjoying comfort all night long.
He couldn't think of any grounds
to stay outside. That would be wrong.
It was his first time at this cave,
and size DOES matter, he knew that.
If you're too big but bold and brave
you slip right in, Oh Pussycat!

In case you're wondering, my friend,
the pussycat is MY mirage.
This lovely poem, it was penned
right after locking the garage.

Note: It helps if 'garage' is pronounced with a french twist.

by Herbert Nehrlich

Comments (4) Herbert you got me at a loss for words (unusual for me) . Cute write...
Dan, thanks for the kind words. Thankfully, I am WAY too naive (and the product of a very sheltered upbringing) to read more into this simple, straight forward description of a hetero-garage thingy. As for the word garage itself, I have a carport. H
Herbert, very, very nice! Brought back some........well, never mind! Yes, I suppose it helps with alliteration to go at 'garage' in the French. Although, the poem is effective either way for me. I had to wonder though, and I say this with the utmost respect for your work, could 'up' the garage' leave a little more space for readers? Perhaps it's just my lack of familiarity with the idiom and vernacular of your country of origin. I hope I haven't overstepped offering these thoughts
Nice touch, Herbert...very nice...I enjoyed how you tripped one gate after another to unveil this entire thought/situation...very clever...very well done... Lare Austin