The drive is long and windy,

There’s no rest stop for miles.

You just finished your second Sprite,

There’s tears behind your smile.

Mum’s voice is ringing in your ears,

“Please pee before we leave.”

You didn’t heed her good advice,

Now there’s nowhere to relieve.

You look down at your empty can,

It will likely hold the lot.

But grandma’s sat beside you,

She’ll think you’ve lost the plot.

You do your best to hold it in,

The music is distracting.

But when it starts raining hard,

there’s no more point in acting.

You brace yourself to let it out,

And quickly you exclaim.

“Mum, I’m gonna wee myself,

I’m in quite a bit of pain!”

She gives you one long piercing look,

And pulls over to the side.

“You see that tree beside the fence?

Behind it you can hide.”

You unbuckle faster than Usain Bolt,

And waddle in the rain.

Your belt is off, your pants are down,

You no longer need to strain.

You turn a corner at the tree,

And spot it with your eyes.

“This can’t be real” you softly say,

But a tree could never lie.

Behind the trunk’s a porcelain pot,

Plus plungers and rolls galore.

From the front, a humble evergreen,

But behind lies so much more.

You drop your knees into a squat,

And suddenly feel free.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh” you loudly sigh.

How good it feels to pee.

As it flows you gaze around,

At all the luscious leaves.

And as you start daydreaming,

You feel a sudden breeze.

The tree is slowly fading,

And soon it’s no longer there.

Your family car sits metres away,

And your bottom, well, it’s bare.

You pull up your pants and start running back,

However could it be?

Your mum is smirking knowingly,

“How was the toilet paper tree?”

As she starts the car and hits the gas,

You tug her on her sleeve.

“Next time we go on a road trip,

I’ll pee before we leave.”