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The Great Wee Dash

The urge arrives without a sound,
No warning flare, no middle ground.
One moment sat, relaxed, at ease,
The next I’m clenching both my knees.

A cup of tea? A foolish choice.
My bladder now has found its voice.
It’s shouting loud and making clear,
“You’ve got about ten seconds here!”

I rise with dignity and grace,
Or that’s the plan in any case.
But halfway up, the panic starts,
As confidence and comfort parts.

The staircase looms, a fearsome climb,
A challenge measured now in time.
Each step becomes a desperate plea,
“Please wait another second, wee!”

My bladder, sadly, disagrees,
And squeezes harder by degrees.
The bathroom door’s in plainest sight,
Yet somehow still a mile tonight.

I reach the handle, victory near,
The finest moment of the year.
But then comes one last cruel surprise,
The zip becomes my greatest prize.

My fingers fumble, curse and tug,
As sweat appears upon my mug.
The battle rages, man versus fly,
While precious seconds hurry by.

At last success! The stream takes flight,
And all the world again feels right.
A sigh escapes, both long and deep,
The kind that helps a grown man weep.

So here’s to those who’ve had the rays,
And navigate these curious days.
We may not run as fast as before,
But by God, we know what toilets are for.

And if you see me leave the room,
With sudden speed and hints of doom,
Don’t ask me questions, let me flee,
For nature’s sent an urgent plea!