The Parking Lot
A human on a shopping spree
Went here and there to see
What's new, what was on sale.
And thereby hangs a tale.
She managed some six stores just fine
But finally ran out of time.
She'd left, as always in the past,
The most important to the last.
This most important store
Was seven miles away, or maybe more.
Six times a red light made her stop
En route to her most favorite shop
She fretted mightily until
She saw the doors were open still.
Her next step was to park her car
Close by and not too far.
She hoped for empties in aisle one
But all the open spots were gone.
Her anxiousness now grew
When none were open in aisle two.
Just then she saw an empty spot,
Drove there, but empty it was not.
It held a tiny compact car.
She didn't see this from afar.
As she cruised down aisle four
She spied a slot next to the door
Once there she found to her dismay.
For handicapped it was OK.
Aisle three was not much better
Unless the man ahead would let her
Take the only empty slot.
But no he wouldn't, he did not.
She thought, let's once more drive
Through here; then to aisle five.
One slot had looked quite empty there.
Alas, it was a motorcycle's lair.
She kept on driving round and round
Till finally an empty spot was found
Close to the end, quite far
Where she could park her car.
By now it sure was getting late.
She didn't think it was already eight
Until she hit the entrance to the store
Ten seconds after they had locked the door.