Sounds of thunder

Cloudy skies above my head,
Sounds of thunder filled with dread.
Frowning faces join the cue.
And stand in line to use the Loo.
Muffled sighs from the back of the line.
Putrid fumes of fermented wine.
Then in horror and to my dismay,
My stomach grumbled as clear as day.
Shuffling feet upon the floor,
Getting closer to the door.
Beads of sweat form on my brow,
As a bubble of wind threatens to disembowel.
And then what followed was to gross to explain
But all could tell that I was in pain.
And then at last my turn had come.
Only to find no Loo paper to wipe my bum.-written by Robyn Brown